POEMS 


BY 


HATTIE    HOWARD. 


"It  sounds  like  stories  from  the  land  of  spirits, 
If  any  one  obtain  that  which  he  merits, 
Or  any  merit  that  which  he  obtains." 

—  Coleridge. 


HARTFORD,  CONN. 

1886. 


COPYRIGHT,  1886, 
BY  HATTIE   HOWARD. 


•  of  The  Case,  Lock  /"."-/  .1-  llralnunl  <  »..  //<// 


DEDICATION. 


These  random  rhymes  were  written  solely  for 
my  own  diversion,  and  with  no  thought  of  making 
a  book.  But  at  the  earnest  solicitations  of  those 
who  profess  to  have  been  edified  and  amused  by  my 
fragmentary  verses,  I  have  collected  them  into  this 
little  volume,  hoping  that  the  dear  friends  who  in 
the  hour  of  need  have  proven  friends  "in  deed,'' 
will  accept  it  in  the  same  spirit  of  affectionate 
good-will  with  which  it  is  hereby  dedicated  to  them 

BY   THE    AUTHOR. 


M264589 


-4* 


PAGE. 

SEPTEMBER  SONG,        ......        7 

SYMPATHY,         .......        9 

"  THE  MELANCHOLY  DAYS,"  .  .  .  .  .10 

THOUGHT  CANNOT  DIE,          .  .  .  .  .12 

THE  OLD-FASHIONED  HOUSE,  .  .  .  .14 

MY  PICTURES,   .  .  .  .  .  ...      15 

THE  MISSION  OF  THE  FLOWERS,       .  ,  .  .18 

A  DKEAM,         .......      19 

THE  WEEK  OF  PRAYER,         .  .  .  .  .21 

AN  UNKNOWN  FRIEND,  .  .  .  .  .23 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,       .  .  .  .  .  .25 

AN  EPISODE,     .  .  .  .  .  .  .27 

CHRISTMAS,        .......       29 

GRATITUDE,       .......      'SI 

SONG  — A  MERRY  HEART,      .  .  .  .  .32 

WAITING,  .......       33 

JUNE,      ........      35 

POMONA'S  GIFTS,          .  .  .  .  .  .36 

WHO  CARES,     .......      38 

MYSTERIOUS,     .  .  .  .  .  .  .39 

TRISTESSE,         .......      41 

THE  LAND  OF  ROSES,  .  .  .  .  .43 

To  ONE  AFAR,  .  .  .  .  .  .44 

CAST  DOWN,      .  .  .  .  .  .  .46 

1* 


CONTENTS. 


A  JUNE  Tim  .  .  .  .  .  .      -H; 

A  Diu  -:\M.  .......       49 

GOOD-BYE  TO  DR.  SA<  .  .  .  .  .51 

Ml  -ED  ......... 

AT  II  MI    MAST,  ......      55 

I'.i    KIND  TO  THE  AGED,         .  .  .  .  .57 

r.K.  .......      58 

A    ECBBPfl  LKB,    .  .  .  .  .  .  .60 

N\  H  IN  HOSES  BLOOM  AGAIN,  .  .  .  .61 

INDIAN  SUMMEU.          .  .  .  .  .  .63 

A   -  .......      64 

Tin:  (  in  K<  ii  OF  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD,      .  .  .05 

To  OM    IN  KNOWN,      ......       68 

WAT<  ii    HII.L,    .......       70 

Tin;  <M.I>  r>riiviN<.  GROUND,  .  .  .  .72 

I    M>ERG  ROUND   STREAM,  .  .  .  .  .74 

I"  \\NII..  .  .  .  .  .  .  .       75 

NE,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .77 

ODE  TO  TENNYSON,     .  .  .  .  .  .78 

Arri.i:   BI.OS-OM-.          .  .  .  .  .  .80 

82 
.Tri.y  .......       84 

'I'lIK    S  UK  I  'HERDS  OF   JUDEA,    .  .  .  .  .85 

Tin:  >.MELL  OF  GRAPES,         .  .  .  .  .89 

Mm-rMMEi:,      .  .  .  .  .  .  .90 

KIMSODE  OF  Tin:  KINK,    .  .  .  .  .92 

BBS,  .......        I'l 

MY  DEAR  KKI.I<;IQUS  PAPER,  .  .  .  .96 

A    I  >  I  OF  <  'PINION,  .  .  .  .  .99 

!•  THAT  CHEERS,"  .  .  .  .  .101 

III    I.  TIN'.    THE     1'noK,      ......       104 

CKESCENT  BEA<  n.  .  .  .  .  .106 


These  beautiful  days  of  September 
For  me  have  a  wonderful  charm, 

Because  of  the  joys  I  remember 
Of  old  autumn-life  on  the  farm. 

Was  ever  a  spot  more  inviting 
To  wayfarer  weary  and  lone  ? 

Where  guests  ever  vied  in  requiting 
The  manifold  courtesies  shown. 

Where  industry  rendered  abundant 

Each  annual  gathering-in 
Of  harvests,  till  rich  and  redundant 

Became  every  storehouse  and  bin. 

As  benisons  graciously  given, 
That  household  I  cannot  forget 

Accepted  the  largess  of  heaven, 

And  humbly  acknowledged  the  debt. 


POl 

(  Hi,  riirlli  has  a  million  of  pla<-> 
To  tarry  —  but  only  one  home! 

Ami  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  FaC6fl 
That  liannt  me  wherever  I  roam. 

Amoii-  them  is  one  of  a  In-other, 
So  ardent  and  loyal  and  brave; 

In  battle  like  many  another, 

His  life  for  his  country  he  gave. 

A  leader,  collected  and  ready, 

'Mid  tumult  of  cannon  and  shell  — 

"  (  hi.  comrades  !  and  keep  the  line  steady  ! 
The  words  that  lie  uttered  —  and  fell. 

How  mea-er  appear  the  diversions 
That  then  could  rusticity  please! 

The  <|uiltiii'j--hees.  huskings,  excursions 
In  fc- pi  rogues"  hewn  out  of  the  trees. 

A   -ancy-faced  maiden  of  twenty, 

In  home-made  habiliments  dressed, 
If  parties  and  suitors  were  plenty, 
higher  ambition  possessed. 

Hut  under  my  eyelids  are  welling 
Sad  tears  for  the  dearest  of  earth. 

The  promise  and  light  of  our  dwelling  — 
For  this  was  the  month  of  her  birth. 


SYMPATHY. 

I  am  sure  that  so  gentle  a  spirit, 
Embodying  goodness  and  love  — 

Her  birthright  —  must  also  inherit 
A  place  in  the  "  mansions  above." 

Before  me  in  exquisite  vision 

Are  scenes  that  enchanted  me  then, 

And  in  this  September  Elysian 
The  past  I  live  over  again. 


So  oft  the  telegraphic  wire 

Repeats  some  startling,  harrowing  tale 
Of  crime'  and  famine,  flood  and  fire, 

Of  bitter  want  or  sorrow's  wail, 
That  many  a  sympathetic  soul 

Which  once  a  touch  of  nature  stirred 
Indifferent  grows,  until  the  whole 

Is  heard  but  as  an  idle  word. 

But  cold  indeed  the  heart  must  be 

That  is  not  turned  by  pity's  weight 
To  that  lone  city  by  the  sea. 

In  ashes  sitting  desolate ; 
Her  hapless,  homeless  people  fled, 

Or  crouching  low  by  ruined  walls, 
Unfed,  unclad,  uncomforted  — 

A  scene  humanity  appalls. 


10  POEMS. 


When  }.  i-ond  Chicago  writhed  in  llanio  — 

The  irlory  of  our  great  Northwest  — 
From  Texas,  Southern  sister,  came 

LVlief  snrpa>sin<_r  all  tin-  real  : 
When  IVstileiiee  nVr>wrpt  the  land 

And  Lite  and  Hope  were  almost  gone, 
r.rnr\ol«-nce  the  distance  spanned 

And  help  went  out  from  Galveston. 

And  when  we  strove  in  battle's  heat 

And  combated  the  nation's  foe, 
Some  hearts  there  were  that  loyal  beat 

Along  the  (Julf  of  Mexico; 
So  let  these  memories  ever  live 

And  bind  us  like  a  golden  chain, 
Till  by  the  aid  that  we  shall  give 

The  sufferer  revives  again. 


Are  these  u  the  melancholy  days" 
That  poets  sometimes  write  about 

luerulous.  one  scarce  can  doubt 
That  some  uneasy  qualm,  or  pout 

Inspired  their  halt'-coinplainin^  lays? 


«  THE  MELANCHOL  Y  DA  YS."  1 1 

Why,  happy  Time  too  swiftly  flies 
Tn  joy-filled  moments,  such  as  these  ! 
When  Nature's  aim  seems  but  to  please 
By  interweaving  harmonies 

That  thrill  our  souls,  and  feast  our  eyes. 

Who  reads  aright  her  open  book, 
Emblazoned,  finds  on  every  page 
Some  new  delight  for  youth  or  age ; 
A  paean,  or  a  sermon  sage 

In  rock,  and  tree,  and  flowing  brook. 

Upon  the  hills  a  poem  lies; 

Nocturnes  are  whispered  through  the  trees, 
And  caught  by  every  passing  breeze; 
And,  from  the  vale,  sweet  symphonies, 

As  by  an  angel  chorus,  rise. 

The  year  is  dying,  it  is  said  — 

Can  Death  be  beautiful  as  this  ? 

Without  regret,  it  must  be  bliss 

To  give  to  earth  the  parting  kiss 
And  thus  approach  one's  dying  bed. 

0  it  were  sweet  to  know  that  Death 
Thus  beautiful,  robbed  of  its  sting, 
That  makes  it  an  unwelcome  thing, 
Could  come  to  us !  who  then  would  cling 

To  Life,  or  grudge  th'  expiring  breath  ? 


12  POffJ/8. 

£(iou0ljt  Cannot  Die. 

The  rostly  tablet    man  in;iy  rear, 

And  on  its  polished  lace 
With  caivful  hand  from  year  to  year. 

His  deeds  of  valor  trace; 
Proclaiming  thus  to  human  ken 

His  wortli  nnd  right  to  claim 
Due  homage  from  liis  fellow-men, 

And  hope  lor  lasting  fame. 

The  storird  trinple  he  may  build, 

And  deck  its  altar-shrine 
With  handicraft,  refined  and  skilled. 

And  jewels  from  the  mine ; 
May  past  un  wort  hi  ness  efface 

And  make  his  glory  sure, 
I>y  '.riving  jn  jts  aisles  a  place 

To  God's  deserving  poor. 

His  skill  may  make  a  palace-car 

Luxurious  in  ease, 
While  wind  and  wave  shall  bear  afar 

His  i'lvi-hted  argosies; 
Some  favored  turn  of  Fortune's 

Tin-  wraith  of  earth  may  pour 
Jn  cofiri-s  that  shall  scarce  conceal 

Thrir  overflowing  store. 


THO  UGHT  CANNO  T  DIE.  \  3 

Upon  the  rough-hewn  stepping-stone* 

Of  poverty  and  want 
He  may  ascend,  till  kingly  thrones 

His  spirit  shall  not  daunt; 
For  on  his  ladder's  highest  round, 

Proud  monarchs  shall  revere 
The  hero  true,  by  valor  crowned, 

And  own  him  as  their  peer. 

Bnt  stately  tower  or  battlement 

Shall  yield  to  slow  decay, 
Bright  honor,  fame,  emolument  — 

All  these  shall  pass  away  ; 
And,  as  alike  o'er  Lrood  and  bad. 

The  marble  shaft  shall  rise, 
This  epitaph,  suggestive,  sad, 

Is  written,  "Here  he   lies  !  " 

While  he  who  frees  a  golden  thought 

Upon  the  wings  of  Time 
Hath  unawares  and  wisely  wrought 

A  deed  far  more  sublime ; 
For  this  shall  live,  beneficent, 

Inspiring  hope  and  trust 
When  tower  and  fane  and  monument 

Have  crumbled  into  dust. 


14  POEMS. 

£lK  Old  fasliioncD  poujtfe. 

Of  nil  tin1  tender  and  eomfort  MILT  thin 
That  now  and  then  sweet  memory  brin--. 
There's  nothing  dearer  that  l<>vr  recalls 
Than  the  old-fashioned  house  with  its  white-washed 
walls. 

a  mansion  to-day,  though  a  marvel  of  art, 
Can  ever  usurp  its  place  in  my  heart; 
For  there  my  earliest  prayers  were  said, 
And  I  slept  at  night  in  a  trundle  bed. 

'Neath  coverlids  reaching  from  feet  to  chin, 
By  a  mother's  hand  tucked  gently  in, 
And  a  -nod-night  kiss  on  my  tired  brow  — 
Oh,  earth  holds  no  such  blessing  now  ! 

A  garden  \\a>  Ira-rant  in  flower  beds 
Whore  marigolds  lifted  their  velvet  heads, 
And  warmed  by  sunshine,  refreshed  by  dew. 
Tin.*  burhelor-biitton  and  touch-me-not  grew. 

In  a  river,  that  curved  like  a  shepherd's  crook, 
We  fished  for  minnows  witli  bent  pin  hook: 
Or  with  little  bare  feet  oft  waded  through, 
And  bravely  "paddled  our  own  cai 


MY  PICTURES.  15 

'Twas  a  home  of  welcome  no  one  could  doubt, 
Whose  latch-string  hung  invitingly  out. 
And  many  a  stranger  supped  at  its  board 
While  blazing  logs  in  the  chimney  roared. 

0  this  is  an  age  of  reform  and  change ! 
And  things  aesthetic,  modern,  and  strange  — 
Improvements  that  savor  of  silver  and  gold 
Are  superseding  the  cherished  and  old. 

But  I  turn  from  palaces,  built  for  show, 
With  mansard  roofs,  and  stories  below 
Of  frescoed,  kalsomined,  dadoed  halls, 
To  the  old-fashioned  house  witli  its  white-washed 
walls. 


They  are  not  set  in  frames  of  gold, 
Nor  painted  by  the  masters  old, 

Whose  names  are  celebrated 
For  deft  and  true  artistic  touch ; 
But  still  I  prize  them  quite  as  much, 

And  gaze  on  them  elated. 


Nor  were  ili<-se  treasures  handed  me 
An  heirloom    from  Hie  family  tree, 

And  rich  in  many  a  blessing 
From  pious  ancestry  —  nor  were 
They  purchased  by  a  connoisseur 

Rare  cultured  taste  possessing. 

l>ut  in  my  chamber,  while  I  slept. 
Some  magic  artist  softly  stepped 

From  distant  realms  Flysian, 
And  wrought  upon  my  window-pane 
Such  wondrous  pictures,  that  I  fain 

Believe  I  see  a  vision. 

His  cunning  hand  disdained  the  light, 
And  fashioned  in  the  gloom  of  night, 

Such  strange  designs  —  I  wonder 
1 1.  "twixt  me  and  the  heavenly  land, 
That  shadowy  veil  by  his  command 

Has  not  been  rent  asunder. 

While  I  in  admiration  stand, 
And  to  that  viewless  master-hand 

My  silent  homage  tender, 
The  morning  sunlight,  glancing  through, 
Makes  one  kaleidoscopic  view 

Of  rich  prismatic  splendor. 


MY  PICTURES.  17 

I  fancy  that  I  see  the  wall 
Of  jasper,  amethyst,  and  all 

Celestial  gems  combining, 
That  round  the  New  Jerusalem 
Gleams  like  a  royal  diadem 

In  heavenly  luster  shining. 

A  great  white  throne  I  now  behold, 
The  King  thereon,  the  streets  of  gold, 

And  waiting  seraphs  kneeling ; 
The  open  pearly  gates  disclose 
The  ever-living  stream  that  flows 

Beneath  the  trees  of  healing. 

And  thus  do  busy  fancies  throng 
My  curious  brain,  and  make  me  long 

To  know  that  great  Designer, 
Who  thus  works  out  his  secret  plan, 
So  far  exceeding  skill  of  man, 

And  infinitely  finer. 

The  sun  looks  down  with  ardent  ray, 
And  soon,  alas !  will  melt  away 

My  treasures  evanescent ; 
But  they  have  not  been  wrought  in  vain, 
For  memory  of  them  shall  remain 

A  joy  forever  present. 

2* 


18  POEMS. 

And  I  shall  sec  the  counterpart 

Of  that  blest  scene  that  won  my  heart 

For  one  delightful  hour ; 
The  world  is  wide  —  I  look  abroad 
•  Through  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God." 
And  own  his  wondrous  power. 


Opi&rton  of  tijc 

Just  over  the  way  there 

Was  crape  on  the  door, 
Looped  up  with  a  ribbon  of  white ; 

And  1  knew  that  a  dear 

One  had  passed  on  before 
To  her  home  in  that  land  of  delight.. 

I  knew  of  the  sorrow 

Bereavement  imparts, 
Of  grief,  when  a  loved  one  is  gone, 

And  thought  of  the  great 

Aching  void  in  their  hearts, 
Till  my  own  was  in  sympathy  drawn. 

Low  down  in  the  valley 

Of  shadows  I  know 
Friends  walked  in  the  deepest  of  gloom; 

And  often  ]  wondered 

If  aught  I  could  do 
Their  desolate  way  to  illume. 


A  DREAM.  19 

They  were  strangers  to  me, 

And  no  words  could  I  say. 
But  I  thought  all  at  once  of  my  flowers  — 

How  often  they'd  driven 

My  sorrow  away, 
And  brightened  my  loneliest  hours. 

So  I  gathered  the  loveliest 

Blossoms  I  had 
To  send  on  their  mission  of  love, 

And  wondered  if  she 

Could  look  down  —  and  be  glad  — 
From  her  beautiful  mansion  above. 

My  flowers  spoke  for  me. 

And  touched  a  heart-chord 
That  thrilled  in  responsiveness  true ; 

And  echoed  the  joy 

That  became  my  reward 
That  the  "  mission  of  flowers  "  I  knew. 


How  strange  !  it  seems  but  yesterday 
I  clasped  thee  to  my  ardent  heart ! 

And  now,  a  thousand  leagues  away 
Beyond  the  swelling  seas  thou  art. 


20  POEMS. 

Oh!    wearily  the  hours  have  sped 

Since  that  sa<l  day  when  last  we  met 

And  purled,  while  tin-  sun  o'erhead 
Grew  darker,  as  in  I'm  id  regret. 

Hut  nights  of  gloom  that  shroud  my  soul 
Are  lighted  up  hy  dreams  of  thee  — 

Sweet  dreams  !  which  could  I  but  control 
\Vould  last  through  all  eternity. 

"I1  was  such  an  one,  the  other  night, 
Illumed  this  dreary  world  of  mine 

As  with  a  ray  of  heavenly  light, 

And  filled  my  heart  with  joy  divine. 

A  meteor  in  my  darkened  sky 
Thy  spirit  came,  as  o'er  the  deep, 

And  wiped  the  tear-drop  from  my  eye 
And  calmed  the  wave  of  troubled  sleep. 

Encircling  arms  dispelled  my  pain  ; 

A  tender  voice,  a  phantom  kiss, 
A  loving  smile  revived  again 

Old,  unforgotten  days  of  bliss. 

But  sad  the  wakening  —  sad  to  know 
That  this,  the  brief  refulgent  gleam 

Of  happiness,    that  thrilled   me  SO, 
Was  but  the  rapture  of  a  dream. 


THE  WEEK  OF  PRATER.  21 

A  vision  bright  that  came  and  went, 
One  flash  of  joy,  and  all  was  o'er ; 

A  boon  which  Heaven  a  moment  lent 
And  then  withdrew  forevermore. 

T  were  vain  to  wish  thy  hours  of  rest 
With  thoughts  of  one  might  radiant  be 

Who,  of  thy  friendship  still  possessed, 
Through  all  the  years  remembers  thee. 

But  may  I  hope,  while  far  apart 
We  are,  and  others  win  thy  praise, 

Thou  wilt  not  quite  forget  the  heart 
That  bows  in  love  to  thee  always. 


Wtth  of 


"  A  season  of  refreshing  from 

The  presence  of  the  Lord  " 
Ensues  when  saints  together  come, 

And  join  in  sweet  accord 
To  praise  the  "  Giver  of  all  good  "  ; 

And,  for  His  constant  care, 
To  render  heartfelt  gratitude  — 

As  in  the  "  Week  of  Prayer." 


22 


Impelled  by  one  uplifting  thought 

Came  forth  "the  praying  band  " 
From  palaee  liall.  or  lowly  cot, 

All  over  this  broad  land  ; 
And  who  can  doubt  thai  I'mm  above, 

In  lieavenly  realms  of  air, 
rriie  angels  looked,  in  wond'ring  love, 

And  blessed  the  "  Week  of  Prayer"  ? 

r>\  fireside,  in  busy  mart, 

As  by  concerted  plan, 
A  common  impulse  stirred  the  heart 

Of  universal  man 
To  consecrate  the  dawning  year, 

In  promise  bright  and  fair, 
To  Him  who  have  the  thought  sincere 

Of  that  first  "  Week  of  Prayer." 

'T  were  meet,  indeed,  to  choose  one  week 

From  fifty-two  or  more, 
For  His  benignity  to  seek, 

And  clemency  implore  ; 
But  every  wreek  throughout  the  year 

The  same  sweet  name  should  bear 
That  every  Christian  must  revere  — 

The  precious  ••  \\Yrk  of   Prayer." 


THE  UNKNOWN  FRIEND.  23 

The  golden  years  are  passing  by ! 

May  we  in  prayerful  mood 
Abide,  until  the  end  draws  nigh, 

For  "  God  is  ever  good," 
And  richest  blessings  shall  come  down 

If  we  our  hearts  prepare, 
And  His  approval  fitly  crown 

Each  hallowed  "Week  of  Prayer." 


9Un 

I've  grown  to  love  that  unknown  friend, 
On  whom  my  grateful  thoughts  depend  ; 
And  wish  I  might  some  message  send 

My  gratitude  expressing, 
For  bountiful,  Thanksgiving  cheer 
That  comes  with  each  recurring  year, 
And  proves  "  a  friend  is  ever  near," 

AVliose  love  invokes  my  blessing. 

1  marvel  who  that  one  may  be, 
Who  kindly  deigns  to  favor  me 
With  such  substantial  sympathy, 

And  whether  man  or  woman 
Does  this  the  welcome  gift  bestow  — 
More  blest  than  I  in  doing  so  — 
I'm  sure  the  friend  I  long  to  know 

Is  more  divine  than  human. 


-J I  POEMS. 

My  secret  thoughts  oft  cling  around 

One  whom  true  honor  long  hath  crowned; 

Whose  noble  heart.  by  chance  I  found, 

My  devious  way  pursuin-  : 
From  whose  riirht  hand,  where'er  it  goes, 
True  h<mnty.  like  a  river,  flows  : 
And  still,  the  prudent  left  hand  knows 

Not  what  the  right  is  doing. 

Again  I  wonder— r till  I  fain 
Believe  the  picture  in  my  hrain, 
That  fades  hut  to  return  again. 

Can  surely  be  no  other 
Than  One  whom  all  unite  to  praise  ; 
Who  searches  out  life's  thorny  ways, 
And  to  each  fainting  heart  displays 

The  kindness  of  a  brother. 

Thus  every  day  I  cogitate, 

With  anxious  heart,  and  longing,  wait 

T<>  know  the  friend  whom  happy  Fate 

To  me  hath  kindly  given  ; 
Hut,  if  my  hope  1  must  resign, 
And  may  not  know,  or  take  in  mine 
The  hand  that  gives — so  near  divine  — 

It  will  he  known  in  Heaven. 


TRINITY  COLLEGE.  25 

Crinitp  College, 

O  Trinity !  thy  turrets  gleam 

In  proximate  suburban  space 
Like  vast  cathedral  towers,  and  seem 

Suggestive  of  some  holy  place; 
Some  quiet,  quaint,  monastic  spot, 

Within  whose  deep  reclusive  shade 
Benignant  priors  might  have  taught, 

And  strangely  solemn  friars  pray  (.M.I . 

Grand  metamorphosis  of  rocks  ! 

A  blemish  once  on  nature's  face, 
By  sudden  expedited  shocks 

Of  man's  designing,  rent  apace  ; 
The  work  of  master-architect 

Amorphous  mass  who  shaped  anew, 
That  magic-like,  without  defect, 

Into  thy  storied  structure  grew. 

O  symbol  of  a  golden  age 

That  typifies,  in  solid  stone, 
A  progress  neither  seer  nor  sage 

Of  ancient  time  had  ever  known! 
Eor  in  symmetric,  stately  walls 

Is  dignified  an  honored  name 
That  Athens'  classic  haunts  recalls, 

And  rivals  Alexandria's  claim. 


26  POEM-. 

II. -iv  Xeiiophon's  delightful  maze 

Allures  the  philologic  mind, 
Or  Plato's  facile,  honeyed  phrase 

Ambitious  youth  their  model  find; 
While  Homer's  bold  hexameters, 

And  Virgil's  matchless  epic  lines, 
To  Poesy's  wild  worshipers 

Are  sacred  as  their  altar-shrines. 

Thy  bounds  encircle  forum-ground 

Where  embryonic  Presidents 
The  key  to  statesmanship  have  found. 

Or  latent  gift  of  eloquence  ; 
While,  promised  guerdon  of  his  dreams, 

More  radiant  than  kingly  crown, 
To  many  a  bright  aspirant,  seems 

The  ermined  robe,  or  surplice-gown. 

Proud  alma  mater  thou  hast  been 
Of  scores  of  earth's  successful  sons 

Who,  in  life's  broad  arena,  win 
The  plaudits  of  less  favored  ones ; 

Who  toy  with  tame.  ;ind  are  beset 
By  honor  and  prosperity  — 

But  never,  never  quite  forget 

Their  love  and  reverence  for  thee, 


AN  EPISODE.  2T 

Within  thy  portals  year  by  year, 

From  every  clime  beneath  the  sun. 
May  those  assemble  who  revere 

The  majesty  of  "  Three  in  One  "  ; 
Thus,  o'er  the  daisied  fields  around 

Where  student-feet  shall  press  the  sod, 
With  nature's  worship  shall  resound 

The  voice  of  praise  to  nature's  God. 


Like  treasure-trove,  within  a  chest 
For  years  it  lay  securely  hid. 

Till  busy  hands,  one  day  possessed 
Of  leave  to  raise  the  ponderous  lid, 

'Hong  other  relics  quickly  caught 

This  old  memento,  half-forgot. 

Time-tinted  't  was,  and  redolent ; 

As  if  its  hiding-place  had  been 
A  chaliced  flower,  diffusing  scent 

As  sweet  as  rose  or  jessamine  — 
But  I  remember,  now  I  think, 
'T  was  that  delicious  violet  ink  ! 


28  POEM*. 

<  M'  all  relmed  dulciloqny 

Expressed  in  thai  "first  valentine" — 
No  wonder  that  it  seemed  tonic, 

In  Livelier  years,  almost  divine, 
As  I  read  on  with  bated  breath, 
Tin-  loyal  ending  —  "Yours,  till  death." 

An  artist  in  his  native  land, 

His  skill  acknowledged  far  and  wide. 

With  fame  and  wealth  at  his  command  — 
What  boon  before  had  been  denied 

To  him  wlm  had  the  missive  penned, 

And  craved  a  dearer  name  than  friend? 

Who  would  have  thought  it  ?     Cousin  Fay  ! 

The  revelation  was  a  blow 
That  almost  took  my  breath  away  — 

1  pitied  him  —  '  twas  years  ago — 
He's  living  yet.  Can  Earth  impart 
No  solace  to  his  broken  heart  ? 


A  letter  from  a  friend  since  then 
My  kinsman  "Raphael  depicts 

Wrapped  up  —  oh,  paradox  of  men! 
In  his  sweet  wii'e  and  children  six  ; 

And  so  for  him  no  more  I  sigh  — 

If  one  needs  pity,  do  not  I  ? 


CHRISTMAS.  29 


We  reveled  in  the  joy  of 
December's  greatest  boon  ; 

Fair,  sunny  skies,  as  cloudless 
And  radiant  as  June. 

Like  healing  balm,  the  sunshine 
Poured  out  its  softest  rays  ; 

While  lengthened  bits  of  twilight 
Eked  out  the  shortened  days. 

Anon,  a  transformation, 

Revealed  by  morning  light  — 

And  all  the  earth  is  covered 
With  robes  of  dazzling  white. 

We  doubt  no  more  that  winter, 
That  seemed  so  far  away, 

Uncertain,  long-delaying, 
Has  come,  and  come  to  stay. 

The  tender  benediction 

That  crowns  the  dying  year, 

In  every  heart  accords  with 
A  thought  of  Christmas  cheer. 

3* 


30  POEMS. 

All  ancient  custom  lighted 

The  glowing  "yule-log"  fire  — 

Tis  ours  to  add  the  beauty 
Of  holiday  attire. 

Tli rough  gorgeous  windows  peering 
On  gayest  festal  scenes, 

The  urchin  ponders  over 
His  slender  stock  of  means. 

In  huge  bazaars,  resplendent 
With  treasures  rich  and  gayr 

Mammas  select  the  presents 
For  which  papas  must  pay. 

Each  home  a  rich  museum, 

Aladdin's  palace  is ; 
1 1  s  hidden  wealth  provoking 

Untold  anxieties. 

Tis  said,  "  It  is  more  blessed 
To  give,  than  to  receive ! " 

0  let  us  prove  the  maxim, 
And  know  what  we  believe  ! 

"  The  poor  are  with  you  always !  " 
He  wins  a  diadem 

Who,  of  his  Christinas  largesse, 
Reserves  a  share  for  them. 


GRATITUDE.  31 

oBratitutie. 

0  could  I  dip  my  barbarous  quill 

In  fountains  of  cerulean  ink, 
And  catch  the  merry,  mellow  trill 

Of  robin  red  or  bobolink, 
I'd  frame,  in  tuneful,  tinkling  phrase, 
For  him  of  bounteous  works  and  ways 
Who  well  deserves  this  meed  of  praise, 
The  sweetest  of  all  lyric  lays  ! 

If  I  could  call  the  angels  down, 

And  from  their  own  bright  jewels  cull 

A  star  to  glisten  in  his  crown  — 
With  sparkling  gems  already  full  — 

'T  would  faintly  show  my  gratitude 

To  one  whose  gracious  deference  stood 

As  recompense  for  conduct  rude 

From  grosser  natures  interviewed. 

If  I,  so  notable,  could  weave 

A  shining'  robe,  like  silver  lawn, 
On  some  ambrosial,  amber  eve 

I  'd  beg  of  him  to  put  it  on ; 
That  its  enchanting  folds  might  gleam 
Before  his  dazzled  eyes,  and  seem 
Symbolical  of  true  esteem 
For  him  of  whom  I  dare  to  dream. 


32  POEMS. 

0  could  I  claim  the  monarch's  right, 

That  of  creating  lords  —  of  men  — 
With  royal  favor  I  'd  requite 
His  generosity  :  and  then 
Proclaim,  as  if  in  trumpet-tone, 
That  every  courtier  round  the  throne 
Should  do  him  honor,  who  hath  grown 
Into  my  heart,  from  kindness  shown ! 


0  a  merry  heart !  it  doeth  good, 

And  like  a  panacea  is 
Whose  properties  once  understood, 
How  strange  !  that  anybody  should 

Disdain  this  best  of  remedies. 

For  a  merry  heart,  like  a  medicine, 

Relieves  distress,  and  lightens  care ; 
A  rift  of  sunshine  that,  let  in 
Where  melancholy  long  hath  been, 
Will  counteract  and  cheat  despair. 

A  merry  heart  and  a  smiling  face 

That  not  a  cloud  nor  frown  doth  know, 

May  penetrate  some  lowly  place 
Where  its  serene,  reflective  <:ruce 
Shall  make  the  live-Inn i:  'lay  aglow. 


WAITING.  33 

0  a  merry  heart  goes  hand  in  hand 

With  a  light,  elastic  tread,  as  free 
As  the  air  one  breathes  of  his  native  land, 
Or  breezes  wafted  o'er  the  strand 

From  spicy  islands  of  the  sea. 

A  merry  heart  is  the  "  mind-cure  "  true  ! 

For  it  brings  the  strength  and  vigor  back 
To  invalids,  that  erst  they  knew, 
And  quickly  gives  of  the  rose's  hue 

To  pallid  cheeks  the  bloom  they  lack. 

A  merry  heart  an  index  is 

Of  that  sweet  peace,  whose  sure  control 
Evokes  from  Life's  discordancies 
Such  wonderful  sweet  harmonies 

As  might  enchant  a  seraph  soul. 


Waiting. 

I  waited  when  the  storm  was  wild, 

Until  the  face  of  Nature  smiled, 

And  Earth  and  Heaven  were  reconciled. 

I  waited  when  the  skies  were  fair, 
And  richest  odors  filled  the  air, 
And  sunshine  rested  everywhere. 


34  POEMS. 

When  sweetest  notes  of  melody, 
From  tuneful  birds  in  every  tree, 

Seemed  warbled  Imt  to  daddi-n  me. 


I  waited  when  the  sun  was  low, 
And  bathed  the  woodlands  in  a  glow 

<  M   tints  that  art  could  not  bestow. 

A  hand  unseen,  beneficent, 

The  rainbow's  arch  of  splendor  bent 

With  dying  sunset  glories  blent. 

1  waited  while  the  veil  of  night 
Was  slowly  drawn  before  my  sight 
And  fastened  with  a  star  of  light. 

When  slumber  reigned  the  world  around, 
1  waited  still  the  glad  rebound 

<  H'  hope,  by  sweet  fruition  crowned. 

Thus  day  by  day,  from  earliest  dawn 
Till  evening's  latest  guest  is  gone, 
With  lagging  pace  the  hours  go  on. 

Still  patiently  I  meditate 

On  brighter  days,  that  soon  or  late, 

Will  surely  come,  if  I  but  wait. 


JUNE.  35 


The  melody  woke  by  the  Spring's  fairy  fingers 

In  every  tree, 
Like  sweet  voices  heard  in  some  happy  dream  lingers 

In  memory. 

All  Nature  is  joyous  to  greet  the  fair  comer  ; 

Like  falling  rain 
A  voice  floats  from  Heaven  proclaiming  that  Summer 

Is  here  again. 

Busy  bees  in  the  sweet  blossom  bells  now  are  swinging, 

And  everywhere 
The  buds  and  leaves  bend  to  their  low  drowsy  singing, 

In  the  still  air. 

'T  were  joy  thus  to  live  'mid  abundance  of  flowers, 

From  day  to  day  ; 
In  sunshine  and  gladness,  till  Life's  golden  hours 

Shall  pass  away. 

And  joy,  when  the  noon  of  its  beautiful  summer 

Wanes  to  the  fall, 
If  peace  shall  illumine  the  path  of  that  Coiner, 

Who  comes  to  all. 


36  POEMS. 


To  denizens  of  dusty  streets 

That  circumscribe  their  pent  abodes, 
By  chance  who  traverse  rural  roads, 

The  dm  rniing  sight  itself   repeats, 

Again  and  oft,  of  luscious  sweets 

Uppiled  in  verdant,  cool  retreats. 

Inviting  clusters  load  the  vine, 

Whose  flavor  hid  in  spheric  shapes 
Belies  the  tale  of  "  Sour  Grapes  "  ; 

For  taste  of  which  so  saccharine, 

The  reason  why  may  one  divine 

The  philosophic  fox  should  pine. 

O  angels  !  it  is  hard  to  pray 

"  Into  temptation  lead  us  not  "  ! 

Who  every  step  are  nearer  brought 
Where  plenty  maketli  glad  the  way, 
As  oases  the  desert  gray, 
Or  beacon  lights  the  harbor  bay. 

And  hard  to  interdict  the  hand 

From  reaching  through  our  neighbor's  fence- 

Forgive  the  covetous  intents;  — 
Where  monarchs  of  the  orchard  stand, 
And  scatter  treasures  as  the  sand 
Is  >tiv\vii  along  the  ocean  .strand. 


POMONA'S  GIFTS.  37 

Would  "  Prohibition's  "  strict  decree 
Forbid  that  one  delicious  draught, 
The  nectar  that  our  fathers  quaffed. 

Our  lips  should  moisten  —  just  to  see, 

In  its  bouquet  and  purity, 

Its  honest  maker's  guaranty  ? 

Pomona  !  goddess  said  to  be 

To  whom  the  pagan  tribes  of  old, 

At  altar  shrines  adorned  with  gold, 
With  bodies  prone  or  bended  knee. 
Confessed  thy  generosity, 
And  orisons  poured  out  as  free ! 

Is  it  thy  hand,  subordinate 
To  an  unchanging,  loving  will, 
That  lavishly  such  wealth  doth  spill 

Of  fruitage  ripe  in  autumn  late, 

Beyond  the  city's  outer  gate, 

Where  lanes  and  highways  deviate  ? 

Ah,  no  ;  for  heathen  evermore 

Imagine  vain  and  foolish  things  — 

As  beings  strange  with  airy  wrings 
In  fair  Elysium  that  soar 
And  hold  their  sway  o'er  sea  and  shore  — 
The  deities  of  mythic  lore. 


8  POEMS, 

But  \\e.  intelli-vnt,  endued 

With  liiirher  wisdom,  reveren^' 
The  God  who  is  Beneficence ; 
And  for  His  gifts  each  year  renewed 
Attune  our  songs  in  -latitude, 
And  praise  the  (iiver  of  all  good. 


Don't  pour  in  everybody's  ear 

The  story  of  your  hapless  lot! 
Ho\v  heavy  taxes  were  last  year, 

Or  that  the  farm  you  lately  bought 
Is  proving  an  investment  dear, 

And  not  the  bargain  that  you  thought. 

Don't  try  to  make  the  world  believe 

That  you're  a  poor  unfortunate  ! 
That  favors  which  you  should  receive 

Come  not  at  all  —  or  come  too  late  ; 
The  world  will  never  stop  to  grieve 

A  moment  o'er  your  luckless  fate. 

Don't  button-hole  upon  the  street 
A  friend  or  neighbor,  unawares, 

And  with  a  rueful  face  repeat 
That  doleful  tale  about  the  tares 

Appearing  in  your  choicest  wheat  — 

Why  should  you  think  your  neighbor  cares  ? 


MYSTERIOUS.  39 

Don't  hail  a  person,  as  he  goes 

With  hurried  air  and  ringing  tread, 

To  tell  him  of  your  private  woes  ! 
In  half  an  hour  should  you  be  dead, 

How  long  the  fact,  do  you  suppose, 
Would  interest  his  busy  head  ? 

Don't  let  the  world  know  all  about 

Your  petty,  pitiful  affairs  ! 
For  some  will  smile,  and  others  doubt ; 

A  few,  perhaps,  will  in  their  prayers 
Remember  you  —  the  few  devout  — 

But,  after  all,  nobody  cares. 


It  was  on  a  winter's  night, 

And  the  wind  blew  sharp  and  shrill ; 
Brightly  glowed  the  anthracite 

Lighting  up  my  domicile, 
When  before  the  fire  I  brought 

My  fauteuil,  soft  and  low, 
Cushioned,  carved,  and  quaintly  wrought 

In  the  style  of  long  ago. 


40  POSM8. 

Caiv  had  Nanislird  with  the  da\  , 

And,  as  by  thr  iirc-liirht  rays, 
Fancy  in  a  divamy  way 

Pictured  scenes  of  other  days ; 
Skillfully  her  fingers  drew. 

Silently,  defined,  and  clear, 
( )ne  bright  panoramic  view 

Of  the  past  forever  dear. 

<  )h,  the  night  was  wild  without, 

And  the  skies  were  grim  and  cold ; 
Drifted  snow-banks  piled  about 

Acres  hid  of  frozen  mold ; 
But  within,  as  though  't  were  Spring, 

Piping  out  their  chansonnettes 
I  could  hear  the  robins  sing, 

1  could  smell  the  violets. 

S<»  I  dreamed  —  and  woke  to  find, 

Roused  from  this  delightful  nap. 
From  an  unknown  donor  kind 

Something  lying  in  my  lap ; 
Such  a  pretty  birthday  card ! 

Afl  it'  \\:it'trd  from  above, 
With  a  COUplrt  from  that  l»anl 

Who  divinely  sang  of  love. 


TRISTESSE.  41 

Just  a  bit  of  pasteboard,  fringed 

Necktie  style  and  squarely  cut, 
Double-faced  and  ecru-tinged 

Like  a  million  others  —  but 
Exquisite  in  flowers  rare, 

Pioneers  in  blossoming, 
Redolent  of  balmy  air, 

Fragrant  with  the  breath  of  Spring. 

How  it  came  I  never  knew, 

Nor  the  "  Open  Sesame" 
That  my  door  responded  to  — 

It  is  all  a  mystery  — 
But  to  me  't  will  ever  seem 

Angels  dropped  it  in  my  room  ; 
Inspiration  of  my  dream, 

Sweet  with  violet  perfume. 


Oh,  weary  steps  !     Why  follow  where 

No  joys  illume, 
O'er  trodden  paths,  so  hard  and  bare, 

And  dark  with  gloom  ? 

Tumult  is  misery,  and  naught 

That  earth  contains 
Is  coveted,  like  some  blest  spot 

Where  quiet  reigns. 


42  POEMS. 

Away  from  u  busy  haunts  of  men," 

Tin-  ceaseless  din, 
I  M 'hold! — an  unfrequented  glen, 

And  rest  within. 

Thy  countlt'ss  charms,  0  Solitude! 

By  sages  sung, 
A  re  recognized  in  this  deep  wood ; 

A  kindly  tongue, 

In  rock,  and  tree,  and  flowing  brook, 

That  whispers  peace ; 
A  voice  from  every  sheltered  nook 

Bids  sorrow  cease. 

S  \veet  evening  breezes  fan  the  face, 

And  cool  the  brow, 
While  day-light  wanes,  with  matchless  grace, 

Unknown  till  now. 

There  's  naught,  that  hinders  pure  delight, 

Can  enter  here ; 
And  none,  but  "  voices  of  the  night," 

Salute  the  ear. 

'T  is  joy  to  know,  as  o'er  the  way 

The  sluidows  creep, 
There  comes,  to  close  the  impassioned  day, 

Forgetftng  sleep. 


THE  LAND  OF  ROSES.  43 

€f)e  3tanU  of  &o£e£. 

Afar  from  these  changeable,  chilly. 

Hyperborean  regions  of  ours, 
Lies  a  land  that  is  melting  in  sunshine, 

And  sweet  with  the  odor  of  flowers. 

A  land  where  the  broad  Mississippi 
Pours  out  her  great  heart  to  the  sea  — 

Whose  fair  Crescent  City  gives  promise 
Of  grandeur  and  glory  to  be. 

'T  is  the  goal  of  the  Paradise-seeker, 

Resplendent  in  vernal  attire  ; 
The  aim  of  the  tourist's  ambition, 

The  invalid's  longing  desire. 

There  roses  are  everywhere  blooming 

On  trellis,  veranda,  and  wall  — 
Mareschal  Neil,  or  the  rare  "  Gold  of  Ophir," 

The  fairest,  and  favorite  of  all. 

A  pink  flush  suffusing  its  petals, 

The  yellow  of  gold  at  its  heart, 
Make  this  the  perfection  of  roses  — 

Beyond  imitation  of  art. 

Sweet  roses  run  rife  in  the  market, 
Embellish  the  hot-house  and  lawn, 

And  tempt  the  admirer  to  purchase 
Till  roses  have  faded  and  gone. 


44  POEMS. 

My  la<ly  displays  at  her  bodice 

A  marvelous  fragrant  IxHHjuet, 
And  weaves  for  her  forehead  a  chaplet 

<  >f   roses,  in  tasteful  array. 

Tin*  lover  selects  for  his  mistress 

Jacqueminot,  or  the  creamy  Lanianjue 
In  scarce-opened  buds,  emblematic 

<  M   true  love's  incipient  spark. 

'Mid  roses  in  lavish  profusion, 

Inhaling  the  scent-laden  air 
The  sojourner  lingers,  believing 

IVrennial  spring-time  is  there. 

'T  is  the  home  of  "The  Great  Exposition " - 
< )h  !  who  that  has  money  and  time 

Can  banish  desire  for  basking 
Awhile  in  that  tropical  clime? 


Co 

It  seems  the  days  will  never  end 
Apart  from  thee,  my  one  dear  friend, 
Whom  every  hour  my  thoughts  attend. 

Fair  morning  dawns  in  dewy  grace 
And  seeks,  with  kisses  on  my  face, 
Jit's  ling'rin'j-  tear-drops  to  erase. 


TO  ONE  AFAR.  45 

Like  fragrant  censers  swung  in  air 
Exhaling  odor  rich  and  rare, 
Sweet  flower-bells  are  everywhere. 

Gay  carols  warbled  wild  and  free 
From  tuneful  throats  in  every  tree 
Ring  out  in  wondrous  harmony. 

While,  fair  aeolians  in  disguise 
With  unseen  harps,  the  breezes  rise 
And  chant  their  softest  lullabies. 

And  with  them  other  strains  combine 
That  seem  less  human  than  divine, 
And  gladden  every  heart  —  but  mine. 

For  everything  I  hear  or  see 

Becomes  dispiriting  to  me, 

Because  —  it  is  not  shared  with  thee. 

And  skies,  however  bright  and  clear, 
Surcharged  with  gloom  to  me  appear, 
For  I  am  sad  —  thou  art  not  here. 

Meek  patience  I  impersonate, 

And  looking,  longing,  wond'ring,  wait 

For  thy  return  —  if  soon  or  late. 

Thy  lot  I  know  is  happiness  — 

For  thee  doth  Heaven  delight  to  bless  — 

And  my  lament  but  selfishness. 


46  r<>KM8. 

That  thou  art  -lad  rxplainrth  why 
The  world  around  thcc  smiles,  and  I 
Am  happier  —  when  thou  art  nigh. 

As  boundless  as  its  sympathies 
All  tenderness  thy  nature  is, 
To  bear  with  mine  infirmities. 

And  thou  dost  find  with  secret  art 

Thy  way  into  a  weary  heart, 

And  lease  of  strength  anew  impart. 

How  long  —  how  long  wilt  thou  delay  ? 
Who  unawares  hast  borne  away 
The  melody  and  joy  of  day. 

0  from  that  far-alluring  shore 
Come  back,  I  pray  thee,  and  restore 
Its  gladness  unto  Life  once  more  ! 


€a#t  SDoton. 

"  Out  of  the  depths  ",  I  cry, 
And  know  Thou  hearest  me, 

Who,  from  Thy  throne  on  high, 
In  tender  sympathy 

Art  looking  down  when1  I 
O'ershadowed,  cling  to  Thee. 


A  JUNE  IDYL.  47 

Dark  grows  the  path  I  tread ; 

And  when  the  gloom  of  night, 
Around  me  and  o'erhead, 

Shall  steal  upon  my  sight, 
Oh  !  shall  I  then  be  led 

By  Thy  celestial  light  ? 

Thick  clouds  obscure  my  sky  — 

I  walk  in  shifting  sand 
Where  pitfalls  thickly  lie, 

And  scarce  can  understand 
That  there  is  ever  nigh 

My  Father's  guiding  hand. 

Oh  !  may  I  not  despair, 

Though  by  affliction  tried; 
Still  may  I  look  up  where 

Sits  Christ,  the  Crucified, 
And  cast  on  Him  my  care. 

And  in  His  love  abide. 


I  dream  that  I  dwell  in  a  beautiful  bower, 
Transported  intact  from  some  tropical  land ; 

Enriched  with  as  rare  and  bewildering  a  dower 
Of  beauty  and  fragrance  as  one  could  demand. 


48 

The  fairest  of  flowers  arc  freely  perfuming 
The  air  that  surrounds  me  wherever  1  tread: 

For  under  my  window  syringas  arc  blooming. 
And  apple-tree  blossoms  are  ibick  overhead. 

The  lilac's  luxuriant  cones  are  beginning 
To  open  their  petals  to  sunshine  and  dew, 

And  orchards  like  spicy  amomum  are  winning 
Their  merited  share  of  encomium  too. 

Delicious  and  delicate  rose  exhalations 
Commingle  with  violets  dotting  the  lawn, 

Where  from  the  corollas  of  lovely  carnations 

The  humming-bird  sips  till  their  sweetness  is  gone. 

Rich  blooms  hyacinthine,  but  tardily  started, 
Are  now  of  as  exquisite  odor  possessed 

As  memories  dear  of  companions  departed, 
Or  scent-laden  breezes  from  Araby  blest. 

To  swing  in  a  hammock  'mid  such  efflorescence 
Is  quite  the  perfection  of  indolent  bliss  - 

1  wonder  if  ever  in  sweet  adolescence 

My  visions  of  Eden  were  fairer  than  this ! 

•  Just  over  the  way  a  fresh  silver  soprano 
A  soul  full  of  melody  seems  to  repeat. 

Where  Katie  is  seated  beside  the  piano 

lu-hearsing   "The   vale    where   the   bright    waters 
meet." 


A  DREAM.  49 

It  carries  me  back  to  that  story  by  Shelley  - 

Oh?  no! — I  forget  —  'twas  delightful  Tom  Moore 

Who  wrote  about  Lalla,  the  princess  of  Delhi, 

And  —  only  for  love  —  the  long  journey  she  bore. 

How  well  I  remember,  when  ardent  and  glowing 
With  notions  romantic,  the  pleasure  I  took 

In  reading  the  poem,  and  wished  I  were  going 
To  be  a  Sultana  —  like  fair  Lalla  Rookh  ! 

0  strong  the  illusion,  and  binding  the  glamour 
A  poet  can  give !  —  it  seems  perfectly  clear, 

Though  thought  is  mature r  and  fancy  is  calmer, 
That  I  am  indeed  in  the  vale  of  Cashmere  ! 


3U  SDream. 

I've  had  a  sweet  glimpse 

Of  a  far-away  land  ; 
In  dreaming,  it  came  unto  me ; 

I  thought  I  was  walking 

Alone  by  the  strand 
Of  a  placid  and  beautiful  sea. 

Its  borders  abounded 

With  verdure  and  life  ; 
And  beyond  was  a  city,  so  fair, 

That  with  it  in  grandeur 

And  elegance  rife, 
There's  nothing  on  earth  can  compare. 


50  POEMS. 

And  angels  were  there,  too ; 

Though  I've  never  seen 
Them.  I  know  h<»w  the  angels  must  look; 

And  one  of  majestic 

And  heavenly  mien, 
Was  writing  down  names  in  a  book. 

I  wondered  if  that  were 

The  book,  we  are  told, 
Where  the  names  of  the  blessed  appear  : 

In  that  beautiful  land 

Where  the  streets  are  of  gold, 
And  the  light  is  so  wondrously  clear. 

I  longed  to  know  whether 
My  name  was  placed  there, 

And  could  not  resist,  till  I  spoke 
To  the  angel,  who  looked 
O'er  the  record  with  care, 

But  before  he  could  answer,  —  1  woke. 

I'm  so  disappointed, 

And  wisli  that  I  had 
Received  a  response  i<>  my  call; 

For  often  I  fear  — 

And  the  thought  is  so  sad  — 
That  it  miirht  not  have  been  there  at  all. 


GOOD-BYE  TO  DR.  SAGE.  51 

oBooU^25pe  to  SDr.  J>age, 

Oh?  we  shall  miss  his  presence  here, 

His  counsels,  wise  and  kind, 
The  guiding  hand,  the  helpful  cheer 
That  made  him  friend  and  pastor  dear 

To  whom  all  hearts  inclined  ! 

When  far  away,  shall  memory 

Ofttimes  to  us  reveal 
That  earnest  face  we  loved  to  see, 
The  lips  that  spake  so  worthily 

When  touched  by  heavenly  zeal. 

His  manly  form  and  noble  brow 

Shall  be  remembered  long ; 
The  regal  mind  to  which  we  bow, 
The  loving  heart  that  taught  us  ho\v 

"  To  suffer,  and  be  strong." 

But  our  affections  shall  he  bear 

Through  many  a  future  day  ; 
And  still  our  truest  friendship  share 
While  thoughts,  light-winged  with  love  and  prayer, 

Pursue  him  on  his  way. 

And  he,  with  Life's  untrodden  ways 

Before  him,  fresh  and  new, 
Shall  turn  to  "  scenes  of  other  days," 
To  hearts  that  name  him  but  to  praise 

And  give  him  homage  due. 


52  POEMS. 

Be  kind  to  him.  benignant  Fate ! 

And  let  not  absence  dim, 
Nor  length  of  time  obliterate 
The  virtues  We  would  emulate 

As  oft  we  think  of  him. 

And  friends  and  neighbors  yet  to  be, 
Whose  gain  shall  be  our  loss, 

Be  true  to  him.  and  learn  as  we 

<  M   him  in  all  humility 

Who  bravely  bears  the  cross. 

May  richest  blessings  hover  round 

Ilis  far-off  Western  home, 
May  health  and  happiness  be  found, 
And  life  with  Heaven's  approval  crowned 
Where'er  his  footsteps  roam. 

And  0  our  Father!  guard  thou  well 
That  happy  household  band 

Kor  whom  our  hearts  with  sorrow  swell, 

Afi  we  regretful  tears  repel 

And  give  the  parting  hand. 

For  them  shall  bells  of  memory  chime 
While  flowers  gem  the  sod, 

I'util.  beyond  the  cares  of  Time 

\\V  inert,  within  that  brighter  clime, 
Around  the  throne  of  God. 

JULY,  1884. 


MISSED.  53 


Untenanted  their  mansion  stands, 

Bereft  of  every  trace 
Of  those  whose  dextrous,  facile  hands, 
Could  so  control  unwieldy  plans, 

And  things  dispose  in  place. 

All  through  these  Indian  Summer  days, 

Upon  the  terrace  lie 
The  mellow  sunlight's  golden  rays, 
That  flash  athwart  the  dreamy  haze 

Beneath  the  Autumn  sky. 

Before  the  portal,  where  no  feet 

Disturb  the  leaves,  all  sere, 
We  pause,  and  half  expect  to  greet 
The  loving  friends  we  used  to  meet  — 

Alas  !  they  are  not  here. 

We  miss  them  ever,  just  the  same 

As  when  they  went  away, 
And  just  as  fondly  breathe  their  name 
As  neighbors  gather  and  exclaim  : 

"  Would  they  were  here  to-day  !  " 

In  social  cheer,  and  labor  wrought 
We  recognize  the  lack 

5* 


54  POEMS. 

Of  aid  and  sympathy,  and  naught 
Can  dissipuli'  the  hopeful  thought 
That  they  will  yet  —  come  back. 

A  thousand  things  suggest  the  sense 

Of  our  umvorthiness 
To  be  the  blest  recipients 
Of  love,  whose  sweet  munificence 

Conferred  such  happiness. 

0  will  they  not  forgive,  wherein 

We  may  have  done  amiss, 
And  place,  against  regretted  sin, 
The  wish  we  had  more  faithful  been, 

And  but  remember  this  ? 

That,  though  by  careless  act  or  word 

Unguarded  and  undue, 
In  human  frailty  we  have  erred 
And  oft  their  tender  anguish  stirred, 

Our  hearts  were  always  true. 

Unto  that  far-off  home  to-night 

Is  wafted  many  a  thought, 
By  those  directed  in  its  flight 
Whom  they  have  sought  to  guide  aright, 

And  who  forget  them  not. 
NOVEMBER,  1884. 


AT  HALF  MAST.  55 


No  joyful  song  is  mine  to-day 

Because  at  early  morning, 
That  solemn  bell  not  far  away 

Pealed  forth  its  dreadful  warning  ; 
And  through  my  heart  a  shudder  went 

For  by  arrangement  given, 
That  General  Grant  —  the  signal  meant  — 

Had  passed  from  earth  to  Heaven. 

Then,  later,  down  the  street  I  passed 

So  sad  —  almost  to  crying  — 
For  all  around  me  at  half  mast 

The  u  stripes  and  stars  "  were  flying  ; 
And  friendly  faces  that  I  sought 

Were  signs  of  sorrow  wearing  — 
That  is,  all  who  in  kindly  thought 

Are  our  dead  hero  bearing. 

For  some  -will  scoff  instead  of  sigh, 

And  wickedly  upbraid  him  — 
But  there  are  those  who  would  defy 

And  curse  the  God  who  made  him  ; 
And  some  beside  his  bier  will  crave 

A  place,  and  round  him  hover 
Who  —  ghouls,  and  heartless  !  —  from  the  grave 

Would  tear  its  sacred  cover. 


56  POEMS. 

0,  shame  !  for  aye  throughout  the  land 

Let  theirs  be  detestation, 
Who  would  have  manacled  the  hand 

Of  him  who  saved  the  nation ; 
On  his  high  tower  how  harmless  fall 

Alike  reproach  and  slander, 
While  deeds  of  war  and  peace  recall 

The  worth  of  our  commander. 

Then  wheresoever,  o'er  the  world, 

The  name  of  "  Grant "  is  spoken, 
Let  flags  half-masted  be  unfurled 

As  griefs  expressive  token  ; 
For  naught  to  him  are  honors  now 

Which,  through  the  years,  have  crowned  him, 
Who  lies  upon  the  mountain  brow 

His  banner  wrapped  around  him. 

0  let  us  hope,  from  his  far  height 

The  blessed  fields  Elysian, 
The  Promised  Land  appeared  in  sight 
And  cheered  his  waning  vision. 

As  from  McGregor's  lonely  crest 
With  rev'rcnt  hands  we  bear  him 

Who  knoweth  not,  in  painless  rest, 
How  ill  the  world  can  spare  him. 


BE  KIND  TO  THE  AGED.  57 

2£>e  Jiinti  to  tf)e  3U0e&. 

Be  kind  to  the  aged  who  sorrow  have  known, 
Whose  way  has  been  rugged  and  steep ; 

Now,  over  the  hill,  who  are  treading  alone 
The  valley  where  shadows  lie  deep. 

With  reverence  look  on  their  whitening  hair 

That  a  halo  of  glory  appears ; 
A  beautiful  crown  like  an  aureole  fair 

Bequeathed  to  the  fullness  of  years. 

Be  kind  to  the  aged  whose  counsels  have  been 

Like  blessings  from  patriarch-lips ; 
A  richer  possession  than  any  within 

The  wealth-laden  Orient-ships. 

Ere  long  we  shall  miss  them,  for  soon  it  must  be 

Their  tottering  footsteps  shall  reach 
The  shore  of  that  limitless,  unexplored  sea 

That  breaks  on  Eternity's  beach. 

Be  kind  to  the  aged  —  the  cycle  of  Time 

As  swiftly-revolving  shall  bring 
The  winter  of  Life  with  its  desolate  rime 

To  you,  who  are  now  in  its  spring. 


f>8 


brighten  their  pathway,  their  burden  take  on 
Till  Life  with  its  trials  be  past  ; 
•Twill  l>e  a  sweet  thought  when  from  earth  they  are 

gone, 
And  Heaven  will  bless  you  at  last. 


October. 

Oh,  what  can  rival  Nature's  charms, 

<  >'(T  all  the  woodlands  lying, 
When  "Autumn  folds  her  jeweled  arms 

Around  the  year,"  now  dying! 

With  fresh  surprise  on  every  hand, 

P>ut  not  one  hue  that's  sober, 
A  nameless  charm  invests  the  land 

In  radiant,  rare  October. 

What  splendor  everywhere  displayed 

In  lavishncss  unsparing! 
T  is  Nature's  own  "grand  dress  parade," 

Her  full  regalia  wearing. 

Fair,  blooming  Spring,  in  robes  of  green, 
That  once  we  deemed  enchanting, 

Grows  pale  when  Autumn,  gorgeous  queen, 
Her  royal  robes  are  flaunting. 


OCTOBER.  59 

The  loveliest  tints  that  Nature  hath 

Were  blent  and  concentrated 
Around  one  bright,  sequestered  path, 

Wherein  I  walked,  elated. 

The  maples  and  the  beeches  tried 

To  prove  each  other  duller, 
And  lent  to  all  the  mountain  side 

Luxuriance  of  color. 

The  sumacs,  in  their  scarlet  hoods, 

Stood  proudly  up,  defying 
The  tallest  monarch  of  the  woods, 

All  gorgeous,  in  their  dying. 

The  ivy,  clinging  to  the  oak, 

Looked  down,  serenely  blushing, 
And  though  no  sound  the  silence  broke, 

I  marked  her  hectic  flushing. 

The  leaves,  that  rustled  to  my  tread, 

Glanced  up  but  to  discover 
Bright  tints  of  gold,  and  brown,  and  red, 

In  branches  bending  over. 

Such  beauties  all  a  hand  bespeak 

With  heavenly  skill  acquainted ; 
The  hand  that  gives  the  rose's  cheek 

Its  hue,  divinely  painted. 


POEMS. 

May  wondrous  Nature  lonir  retain 
The  glories  that  enrobe  her, 

And  chill  November  not  disdain 
To  emulate  October. 


With  treasures  so  dear  that  words  cannot  portray 

How  much  of  my  life  they  enfold, 
Are  two  silver  dollars,  safe  hidden  away, 

More  precious  than  jewels  or  gold, 
In  the  innermost  space  of  an  odorous  drawer, 
In  the  labyrinth  haunts  of  my  escritoire. 

If  thousands  of  others  just  like  them  were  mine, 

Bright  disks  of  the  currency  art, 
Like  beautiful  offerings  laid  on  a  shrine, 

I  'd  solemnly  keep  them  apart, 
A  -  sacred  to  one,  whose  beneficent  hand 
Mure  bountiful  was  than  I  dared  to  demand. 

1  argued  one  day  how  much  butter  and  bread 
They  would  buy  —  it  was  only  a  whim  — 

For  then  I  remembered  the  donor,  and  said 
I  'd  keep  them  —  mementoes  of  him. 

Oh,  may  he  live  long  and  prosperity  know. 

And  Earth  for  his  sake  wear  her  loveliest  glow ! 


WHEN  ROSES  BL 0 OM  A  GAIN.  6 1 

I  wish  I  were  pious  enough  to  bring  down 

A  blessing  direct  from  the  skies ! 
It  should  not  go  begging  all  over  the  town 

For  some  one  in  heavenly  guise 
To  claim  the  dear  boon ;  upon  him  it  should  rest 
By  whom  are  the  needy  made  happy  and  blest. 


With  wasted  form  and  countenance, 

Too  frail  and  weak  to  rise. 
An  ever-longing,  questioning  glance 

Within  her  earnest  eyes, 
Upon  her  couch  the  sufferer  lay, 
And  watched  the  slow  hours  pass  away. 

We  bathed  her  brow,  so  young  and  fair, 
And  touched  her  fading  cheek 

With  gentle  hand,  but  did  not  dare 
Our  trembling  fears  to  speak ; 

But  trusted  care  and  skill  to  know, 

And  baffle  Life's  insidious  foe. 

We  said,  "  The  winter  shall  be  gone, 
And,  whisp'ring  through  the  trees, 

And  o'er  the  sun-crowned,  grassy  lawn, 
Spring-time's  refreshing  breeze 

With  healing  wings  shall  sweep  the  plain, 

And  bring  her  roses  back  again." 
6 


62 


•Tlic  l.aliny  air,  thr  bright  sunshine. 

The  odor  of  the  flown-s. 
The  song  of  birds,  shall  all  combine, 

In  Domini:  vernal  hours, 
TcTcheat  disease,  and  soon  restore 
To  life  its  blush  and  bloom  once  more." 

As  in  rach  heart  this  hopeful  thought 

Grew  every  day  more  dear, 
.Pu'side  her,  though  we  knew  it  not, 

An  angel  hovered  near, 
Unseen,  and  beckoned  her  away 
To  realms  of  everlasting  day. 

Ere  winter  passed,  was  made  a  grave 

Beneath  the  frozen  sod  ; 
And  in  the  spring  shall  grasses  wave 

Where  we  in  sadness  trod, 
And  roses  shall  their  sweet  perfume 
Exhale  above  a  narrow  tomb. 

Dear  heart,  that  never  harbored  guile, 
In  thought,  mature  and  wise, 

A  being,  lent  to  earth  awhile, 
Hut  fitted  for  thr  skies; 

Why  weep  that  she  is  freed  from  pain 

In-fore  the  roses  bloom  again  : 


INDIAN  SUMMEE.  63 


Summer. 


Again  that  Unseen  Hand  hathVrought 
Brown,  amber  tints,  and  gory! 

And,  lo  !  October  woods  have  caught 
Their  true  autumnal  glory  ! 

A  welcome,  cordial  and  sincere, 

Awaits  this  tardy  comer, 
The  gem  of  eacli  recurring  year, 

Delightful  Indian  Summer  ! 

A  touch  of  frost  upon  the  trees 
Has  set  them  all  a-glowing  ! 

On  leaves,  that  dally  in  the  breeze, 
Their  matchless  hues  bestowing  ! 

While  mountain  slopes  reveal  a  scene 

Of  undisputed  splendor, 
Far  brighter  lies  the  vale  between, 

In  sunset  raptures  tender. 

The  faintest  zephyr  breath  that  stirs 
Fair  nature's  calm  reposing, 

Provokes  a  shower  of  chestnut-burrs 
Their  hidden  wealth  disclosing. 


n  POBM& 


purple-clustered  muscatels 
In  di»wy  lam  s  arr  fragrant, 
The  humble-bee  in  ambush  dwells, 
A  loitering,  idle  vagrant  ! 

A  divann  .  atmospheric  haze 

O'er  hill  and  vale  is  lying, 
A-.  passing  fair,  the  year  displays 

Her  "  matchless  charms  "  —  in  dying. 

Thus  beautiful,  when  touched  by  rime 

Of  age,  by  God's  disposing, 
Should  life,  like  Indian  Summer  time, 

Be  brightest  in  its  closing. 


511 

l'\  <•  been  so  happy  all  day  long ! 
As  though  some  new,  delightful  song 
AVrre  in  my  heart,  and  thrilled  it  where 
Before  were  sorrow,  pain,  and  care. 

The  world  is  brighter — every  thought 
\Yith  love  and  thankfulness  is  fraught; 
"Mid  daily  toil  or  evening  rest, 
At  every  hour,  my  soul  is  blest. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.   65 

And  each  succeeding  moment  brings 
The  light  of  gladness  on  its  wings : 
While,  seemingly,  there  hovers  near 
An  angel-form,  my  heart  to  cheer. 

Footsteps,  accustomed  long  to  roam, 
Have  found,  at  last,  their  wished-for  home ; 
And  in  contentment,  tread  the  way 
From  which  they  may  not,  dare  not  stray. 

0,  may  my  life  be  e'er  imbued 
With  joy  that  comes  from  doing  good : 
And  in  thine  all-embracing  care 
Keep  me,  my  Father,  is  my  prayer ! 


Cljurcf)  of  tfyc  oBooD 

Beyond  the  smoke,  beyond  the  sound 

Of  crowded  habitation, 
With  gables  quaint  and  steeple  crowned, 
it  stands  upon  a  rise  of  ground 

Of  charming  situation ; 
And  city  folk  as  Christians  found, 
With  rural  dwellers  miles  around. 

Make  up  the  congregation. 

6* 


66 


Beyond  obnoxious  dust  and  heat, 

By  ancient  rims  surrounded, 
An  edifice  unique  pud  neat 
As  choice  suburban  country-seat 

Its  patroness  hatb  founded, 
In  whose  calm  Sabbath-like  retreat 
From  choir  and  organ  anthems  sweet 
Of  praise  have  long  resounded. 

A  vast  symmetric  pile,  ornate 

With  arch  and  cantalever, 
With  tiles  antique  that  tessellate 
The  spacious  roof  elaborate  ; 
And  spire  suggesting  ever 
A  thought  of  Him  supremely  great 
Who  doth  approve  and  stimulate 
Each  nobly-meant  endeavor. 

Rare  arabesques  like  raveled  lace,, 

From  architrave  to  ceiling, 
Embellish  niches  that  encase 
Fair  cherubim,  in  classic  grace 
The  sculptor's  art  revealing, 
That  overlook  the  chancel-space 
Like  sentinels  to  guard  the  place 
When  waiting  saints  are  kneeling. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.   67 

Oh,  not  in  temples  thus  upreared 

And  richly  decorated, 
Our  fathers  worshiped,  who  revered 
The  God  they  loved  no  less  than  feared, 

But  humbly  congregated 
In  sylvan  shades  to  them  endeared 
As  Bethels  where,  till  He  appeared, 

They  fasted,  prayed,  and  waited. 

Forever  blest  the  hand  that  brings, 

Rebuking  pride  and  malice, 
This  noblest,  best  of  offerings  — 
The  gift  that  speaketh  better  things 

From  wealth's  o'erflowing  chalice, 
Than  monuments  to  buried  kings, 
Or  ostentatious  pomp  that  clings 

Around  some  stately  palace. 

May  all  who  throng  its  transept  take 

New  zeal  from  that  old  story 
Of  One  "  as  man  who  never  spake," 
Till  notes  of  gratitude  shall  break 

The  solemn  offertory, 
And  labor  wrought  for  Jesus'  sake 
This  "  Church  of  the  Good  Shepherd  "  make 

The  gateway  unto  glory. 


G8  POEMS. 

Co  One  Unftnoton* 

Although  I  know  not  who  thou  art, 

Or  if  we're  near,  or  far  apart, 

Thou  hast  completely  won  my  heart, 

My  dear  incognito ! 
And  all  my  fancies  round  thee  twine, 
Whose  footsteps  seem  to  follow  mine,  • 
The  reason  why  I  can't  divine,  — 

No  matter  where  I  go. 

If  I,  when  care-oppressed  and  lone, 
Discouraged  by  an  undertone 
(  H'  sadness,  not  by  right  my  own, 

Could  fly  to  one  like  thee, 
Whatever  ills  might  mark  my  lot, 
I'd  bear  in  resignation,  wrought 
Of  hope-inspiring  counsel  fraught 

With  love  and  sympathy. 

oh,  thought-environed  mystery! 

Because  of  my  perplexity, 

The  day's  sweet  grace  is  lost  to  me ; 

Thou  hovering  entity  ! 
Why  dost  thou  coyly  veil  thy  face, 
And  hide  securely  every  trace 
That  leadeth  to  thy  dwelling-place, 

And  thy  identity  . 


TO  ONE  UNKNOWN.  69 

Why  may  I  not,  dear  angel  true, 
Entreat  from  thee  my  rightful  due, 
Just  one  delightful  interview  ? 

So  long  I've  pondered  o'er 
What  ever  led  thee  to  commence, 
Without  the  slightest  recompense, 
A  course  of  true  beneficence 

At  my  unworthy  door. 

Assured  of  thy  sincere  regard, 

I  should  be  happy,  were  life  marred 

By  Fortune's  buffets,  rude  and  hard; 

Be  blest  were  I  untaught, 
Obscure,  devoid  of  courtesy, 
To  win  from  one  I  know  must  be 
All  goodness  and  urbanity 

So  oft  a  friendly  thought. 

I've  sketched  thee,  often  and  again, 

Upon  the  tablet  of  my  brain, 

And  there  the  picture  must  remain 

As  long  as  life  shall  last. 
For  Mem'ry's  hand,  though  thou  art  gone. 
Shall  kindly,  ever  and  anon, 
Bring  back  the  image,  fancy  drawn, 

When  fleeting  years  have  passed. 


70  POEMS. 

r« -reliance  we  ne'er  shall  mingle  here 
In  thought,  or  drop  a  grief-ful  tear 
Together  o'er  a  coiiinion  bier, 

Or  recreate  in  mirth; 
Then  may  we  clasp  each  other's  hand 
Within  the  borders  of  that  land, 
Where  we  shall  meet  and  understand 

The  mysteries  of  earth. 


Hut  yesterday  the  gayest  throng 

That  ever  sojourned  by  the  sea, 
With  billows  wrestled,  brave  and  strong, 
<  >r  shone  in  festal  halls,  where  song 
And  minuet  held  revelry. 

O'er  watery  courses  flying  yachts, 

Competitors  fraternal,  sped ; 
Their  "logs"  recording  wondrous  knots, 
Till,  far  from  view,  but  meager  dots 

The  overstraining  vision  led. 

Hut  crafty  shark  and  monster  whale 

May  now  disport  where  these  have  been, 
rnterri(ie<l  by  gay  tafl'ruil 
Of  pleasure-era  ft  whose  pennon  sail 

Some  huntsman's  hand  hath  gathered  ill. 


WATCH  HILL.  71 

But  yesterday  the  invalid, 

As  gazing  o'er  the  sea's  expanse, 
Would  fain  have  made  his  grave  amid 
Its  mysteries,  forever  hid 

From  cold  unsympathetic  glance. 

Beneath  as  lovely  sunset  skies 

As  Oriental  lands  may  claim, 
Chance  lovers  breathed  regretful  sighs 

That  ere  another  morn  should  rise, 
The  parting  word  their  lips  must  frame. 

To-day,  where  are  the  multitude 
From  Earth's  remotest  corners  met, 

Who  followed  each  capricious  mood 

That  restless  fancy  might  obtrude, 
As  whimsical  as  gay  coquette? 

All,  all  are  fled,  deserted  now 

Are  sea  and  shore  and  glistening  bay  ; 

Forsaken  Watch  Hill's  lonely  brow 

Confronts  the  elements  that  bow 
To  none  but  their  Creator's  sway. 

In  solitude  one  walks  the  shore 

But  yesterday  by  thousands  trod, 
And  with  a  thrill  unknown  before 
In  Ocean's  smile  and  Ocean's  roar, 

Beholds  the  majesty  of  God. 


7:2  POEMS. 

4&rounli, 


0  an  old,  old  place  it  is, 
Landmark  of  the  centuries  ! 

Damp  with  mold,  and  dark  with  shade 

As  secluded  cloisters  where, 
Screened  by  stately  colonnade, 
Holy  monks  devotions  paid  ; 

Or  upon  mosaics  bare 

Vestal  virgins  knelt  in  prayer. 

Hidden  in  the  very  heart 
Of  the  busy  bustling  mart, 

Where  Life's  ever-surging  tide, 

Restless  as  the  mighty  sea, 
Scarce  its  ripples  doth  divide  ; 
Save  perchance  when  one  aside 

Turns  from  curiosity, 

Some  ancestral  tomb  to  see. 

Oldest  habitant  knows  not 
First  when  this  sequestered  spot 

Broken  by  the  sexton's  spade 

Place  of  sepulture  became  ; 
Knoweth  not  if  man  or  maid 
In  its  primal  cell  was  laid  — 

So,  in  Death,  dissolveth  fame 

And  the  prestige  of  a  narnr. 


THE  OLD  BURYING  GROUND.  73 

Under  those  columnar  trees 
May  not  aborigines, 

Sachems  of  their  dusky  clan, 

Pow-wow  counselors,  have  let 
Hatred  of  the  pale-faced  man 
Circumvent  all  peaceful  plan  — 

Or  their  malice  to  forget 

Smoked  the  fragrant  calumet  ? 

Native  traders  may  have  come 
Bartering  wampum-shells  for  rum  — 

Or  in  lieu  of  ready  cash 

Tendered  baneful  nicotine ; 
Drinking  from  the  calabash 
Fire-water,  making  rash 

Promises  that  sequel-seen, 

Proved  them  treacherous  and  mean. 

Here  our  sires  beneath  the  sod  — 
Blest  reposure  !  —  "  rest  in  God  "  ; 

So  we  read  upon  the  stones 

Crumbling,  leaning  out  of  place, 
Moldering  like  sepulchered  bones, 
Tottering  like  terrestrial  thrones, 

While  the  saints  whose  names  we  trace 

Stand  before  the  Father's  face. 

7 


74 


Qnbcrgrount) 

What  hand,  in  ages  long  ago, 

0  subterranean  river, 
Restricted  thus  thy  overflow, 

And  fixed  thy  bounds  forever  ? 

Why  hidest  thou  in  solitude  ? 

Has  some  dark  deed  of  slaughter, 
Outcome  of  rash,  despairing  mood, 

Stained  thy  pellucid  water  ? 

Within  thy  gloomy  chiseled  walls 
Thy  current  roars  and  hisses 

With  maddening  swiftness,  till  it  falls 
In  deep  and  dark  abysses. 

No  painted  ship  has  ever  crossed 
The  channel  where  thou  flowest  — 

Xo  summer's  sun,  nor  winter's  frost 
Nor  autumn  fair  thou  knowest  ! 

!No  dropping  flower-petals  sweet 
Thy  bosom  ever  freighted  — 

Thy  rapid  flow  no  truant  feet 
Have  idly  penetrated  ! 


FANNIE.  75 

Thy  coolness  never  slaked  the  thirst 
Of  deer,  pursued  and  panting, — 

Returning  traveler  ne'er  rehearsed 
A  tale  of  thee  enchanting! 

No  memory  to  thee  recurs 

Of  merry  sons  and  daughters  — 

Of  gay  picnicking  revelers 
Encamped  beside  thy  waters  ! 

Nor  time  nor  season  shalt  thou  know 

In  thy  dark  habitation, 
As  age  on  age  shall  come  and  go, 

And  nation  follow  nation. 

The  centuries  have  riveted 

Thy  rock-ribbed  walls  around  thee,. 

And  to  thy  adamantine  bed 
Eternity  hath  bound  thee. 


fannie. 

We  dressed  her  in  her  bridal  robes 

Of  filmy  texture  rare, 
And  orange  blossoms  gaily  twined 

Amid  her  shining  hair ; 
As  in  the  joy  of  festal  hours, 

Serene  with  hope  and  pride, 
We  sent  her  forth  in  life's  sweet 

A  loved  and  happy  bride. 


7t>  POEMS. 

A  few  short  months,  there  came  a  day 

When  up  the  village  street 
A  strange  procession  wound  its  way, 

And  hearts  in  sadness  beat ; 
For  Fannie  dear  came  back  to  us 

By  floral  offerings  hid, 
In  wedding  garments,  as  before, 

But  'ncath  her  coffin  lid. 

••  There  is  a  Reaper,"  sang  the  choir, 
"  Whose  name  is  Death."     How  clear 
Rang  out  the  hymn,  in  solemn  chant, 

Above  her  snow-white  bier  ! 
And  Bible  words  were  read  about 

The  New  Jerusalem, 

Where  God  transplants  our  fairest  flowers 
As  He  hath  need  of  them. 

A  sadder  welcome  ne'er  was  given 

To  one  whose  merry  voice, 
As  though  it  were  but  yesterday, 

Made  all  our  hearts  rejoice. 
A  grave  upon  the  sunny  hill, 

A  dear,  familiar  spot, 
KYceived  the  form  that  once  was  full 

Of  life,  and  love,  and  thought. 


ALONE.  77 

It  seems  as  though  a  bird  had  flown, 

And  its  forsaken  nest 
Is  that  sad  home,  so  brief  a  time 

By  her  sweet  presence  blest ; 
But,  sorrow-stricken  and  bereft, 

To  Heaven  we  raise  our  eyes, 
Where  she,  with  angel  plumage  on, 

Now  sings  in  Paradise. 


mionc. 

The  days  are  so  long  and  so  dreary  to  me, 

In  solitude  wrapped  like  a  pall, 
I  wish  Heaven  would  send  me  some  comforting  friend, 

Who  would  lovingly  answer  my  call. 

My  heart  is  overburdened  with  sorrow  and  care, 

My  life  is  enshrouded  in  gloom ; 
I  would  that  some  light  from  that  Heaven  so  bright 

My  desolate  way  would  illume. 

I  thought,  in  the  happy,  bright  days  of  my  youth, 

This  world  was  made  only  for  me ; 
But  how  changed  it  appears  now,  as  seen  through  my 
tears 

How  gloomy  and  sad  it  would  be. 


78  POEMS. 


waters  encompass  me!"  —  ready  to  sink, 
I  utter  this  aironi/cd  prayer, 

That  my  hark,  tempest-tossed,  be  not  utterly  lost 
Deneatli  tin-  dark  waves  of  despair. 


I  read  of  tlif  saints  and  the  martyrs  of  old, 
Who  so  valiantly  fought  the  good  fight, 

And  received  their  reward  from  the  hands  of  their 

Lord, 
A  erown  in  that  land  of  delight. 

And  1  long  for  the  faith  that  takes  hold  upon  God, 
When  the  swift-surging  billows  roll  by, 

That  can  look  up  and  sing,  while  I  trustfully  elinir 
To  the  Rock  that  is  higher  than  1. 


1  hniii-  for  thai  tranquil  and  undisturbed  rest, 
When  doubts  and  forebodings  shall  cease, 

And  when  God  shall  impart  to  my  sorely-tried  heart 
The  sweet  consolation  of  peace. 


Ofcc  to 

My  lord  !  the  laurels  thou  dost  wear 
By  favor  of  a  queen's  command. 

Around  our  brow  we  would  not  dare 
To  twine,  nor  from  the  royal  hand 

Accept  emoluments  that  bear 

Thine  ancient,  honored  peerage  brand. 


ODE  TO  TENNY80N.  79 

For  Pegasus  lends  not  his  aid 

To  us — so  prodigal  to  thee 
That  thou  dost  revel,  undismayed, 

On  pinnacles  of  poesy. 
Whose  far-off  strains  thy  name  have  made 

A  synonym  for  mystery. 

0  prince  of  modern  oracles ! 

Why  speakest  thou,  in  occult  lore, 
Inscrutable,  deep  parables, 

That  we  have  pondered  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  owned,  in  lucid  intervals, 

That  never  thus  spake  man  before  ? 

Great  laureate  !  across  the  sea, 

A  worshiper  in  foreign  land, 
We  lift  our  eyes  admiringly, 

And  offer  our  fraternal  hand  ; 
Although  thy  freaks  of  fancy  free, 

Alas  !  we  do  not  understand. 

But,  since  we  cannot  reach  thy  heights, 

Thou  bard  of  rich  experience! 
Nor  feel  the  rapture  that  incites 

TJiy  marvelous  magniloquence, 
Come  down,  from  thy  aerial  flights, 

To  unpretending,  humble  sense  ! 


80  POEMS. 

Write  one  delightful  lyric,  sung 
In  language  so  direct  and  plain 

That  it  shall  move  our  facile  tongue 
To  glibness  it  cannot  restrain. 

And  that  shall  linger  long  among 
The  cherished  treasures  of  our  brain. 

Descend  to  common  folk,  like  us, 
Soar  not  above  the  brilliant  sun, 

Be  sympathizing,  chivalrous, 

To  those  who  have  not  glory  won ; 

Thou  poet  peer  magnanimous, 
0  dim,  mysterious  Tennyson ! 


The  fairest  flowers  of  all  I  see, 
Whose  fragrance  sweet  is  wafted  me, 
Are  those  which  crown  the  apple-tree ; 
In  calyx  red,  with  petals  white, 
The  lily  and  the  rose  unite 
To  render  each  a  lovely  sight. 

Beneath  the  applr-tree  I  stand, 
My  cheek  by  zephyrs  softly  fanned, 
As  sweet  as  winds  from  Ceylon's  land  : 
While  rosc-crowiuMl  boughs  above  me  sway 
To  every  spring-bird's  joyous  lay 
That  wakes  to  song  the  luvath  of  May. 


APPLE  BLOSSOMS.  81 

The  violets,  that  star  their  bed 
With  eyes  of  azure  hue,  are  led 
To  view  the  gorgeous  scene  o'erhead  ; 
Where  clusters  rich  of  pink  and  white 
The  breezes  woo  by  day  and  night, 
With  whisperings  of  pure  delight. 

'Mid  glowing  warmth  of  noon-day  skies 
The  bee  from  out  his  prison  flies, 
And,  provident,  seeks  his  supplies 
From  honeyed  cells  of  blooming  things ; 
And  while  he  loads  his  dusky  wings 
With  sweetest  nectar,  gayly  sings. 

While  buds  are  to  perfection  wrought, 
A  song,  with  tender  memories  fraught, 
Just  sings  itself  into  my  thought, 
Of  a  half-forgotten  apple-bough, 
That  blossomed  once  as  these  do  now, 
And  shaded  oft  my  fevered  brow. 

0  apple  blooms !  the  lips  are  gone 
That  sang  of  you  one  golden  dawn, 
But,  fresh  and  sweet,  ye  still  bloom  on 
And  all  the  air  with  perfume  fill ; 
And  with  your  beauty  hearts  shall  thrill 
When  the  voice  that  praises  you  is  still. 


82  POKMS. 


Pansies,  pansies  everywhere  ! 

Just  one  blooming  acre  — 
Single,  double,  dark,  and  fair, 
Reigning  favorites,  their  parterre 
Recompensing  skill  and  care 

Of  some  pansy-maker. 

Innocent  and  saucy-eyed, 

Looking  straight  to  heaven, 
Some  are  standing  close  beside 
Others  drooping,  mortified, 
As  if  to  their  conscious  pride 
Rude  rebuff  were  given. 

One  there  is  that  looks  to  me, 
Tall  and  slim  and  speckled, 

Like  a  true  facsimile 

Of  a  female  that  I  see 

Every  day,  a  spinster  she, 
Angular  and  freckled. 

Still  another,  dewy  wet, 

Pink,  with  edges  golden, 
Like  grandmother's  china  set, 
Given  to  her  namesake  |«-t 
Years  ago;  she  lias  it  yet, 
Heirloom  quaint  and  olden. 


PANSIES.  83 

Every  color  'neath  the  sun ! 

In  each  fair  creation 
Seems  a  miracle  were  done. 
While  we  slumbered,  by  some  one. 
But  the  florist  answers,  "  None ! 

Only  cultivation." 

Pansies  in  the  market  sold, 

Gathered  from  the  valleys  ; 
Royal  texture  like  the  old- 
Pashioned  velvet  marigold, 
Petals  lapping,  fold  on  fold, 

Round  each  fragrant  chalice. 

Hearts-ease  on  a  placque  I  see, 

Artist  Laura  painted ; 
Talent  of  a  high  degree, 
Real  pansy-gift,  hath  she, 
And  with  fame  will  doubtless  be 

Very  soon  acquainted. 

Pansy  blossoms  in  my  room, 

Making  me  sad-hearted ; 
For  1  saw  their  purple  bloom 
And  inhaled  their  sweet  perfume 
Once  above  a  little  tomb, 

In  the  years  departed. 


84 


Eyes  of  blue  that  softly  beamed 

Had  tliat  aiiiivl  sister  ; 
linldrn  hair  like  sunlight  gleamed 
lu  her  cofliu.  and  it  seemed 
That  of  her  we  always  dreamed, 

And  forever  missed  her. 


The  poets  all  their  lyres  attune 
To  sing  of  leafy,  goldon  June 
When  Nature  dons  her  gala  dress, 
And  crowns  the  earth  with  loveliness ; 
But,  sweltering  with  fervent  heat 
That  in  July  is  hard  to  beat, 
They  all  with  one  accord  deny 
There 's  any  beauty  in  July. 

Why,  in  July  the  world's  aglow 
With  richer  tints,  a  grander  show 
Than  ever  yet  awoke  their  praise 
For  June's  entrancing,  radiant  days ! 
For  flower,  and  leaf,  and  everything 
Reflects  the  promise  of  the  Spring, 
And  June's  incipient  plan  and  thought 
July  has  to  perfection  wrought. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  OF  JUDEA.  85 

The  bright  mid-day  of  all  the  year  — 
Its  radiator  —  now  is  here. 
Arrayed  in  hues  of  deepest  dyes  ; 
Oh,  for  the  power  to  crystallize 
Into  an  icicle,  and  cling  — 
A  humid,  pensile,  cooling  thing  — 
To  some  old  roof-tree  while  July, 
In  burning  splendor,  passes  by ! 


of 

0  favored  people  !  just  as  bright 

The  halo  round  their  name  to-day 
As  when  they  watched  their  flocks  by  night 

While  in  the  manger  Jesus  lay ; 
When  from  the  skies  an  angel-throng 

Looked  down  upon  the  wondrous  scene, 
And  in  exultant,  choral  song 

Awoke  the  hills  of  Palestine. 

These  shepherd-men  exemplified 

True  kindliness  in  word  and  look ; 
And  called  their  sheep  unto  their  side, 

And  in  their  arms  the  lambkins  took 
So  gently  that  beyond  a  doubt 

As  loving,  tender  hearts  were  theirs 
As  ever  poured  their  fullness  out 

In  honest,  earnest,  humble  prayers. 

8 


86  POEMS. 

N"  harshness  mo\rd  the  p.-itient  lip, 

No  hand  e'er  dealt  a  cruel  blow, 
For  care  and  long  companionship 

Of  gentle  things  had  made  them  so; 
And  yet.  if  near  their  precious  fold 

.Might  danger  lurk  in  cave  or  den — 
Rapacious  beast,  or  robber  bold  — 

They  could  be  stern  like  other  men. 

The  fleecy  covering  of  their  flocks 

Became  their  own,  while  flowing  hair 
In  unconfined,  uncared-for  locks 

Surrounding  foreheads  bronzed  and  bare, 
And  patriarchal  beard  that  fell 

Upon  each  weather-beaten  breast, 
The  story  plainly  seemed  to  tell 

No  thought  of  self  their  minds  distressed. 

What  theme  inspired  their  social  talk  ? 

For  naught  could  be  the  world  to  them, 
The  circuit  of  whose  daily  walk 

l>ut  girt  the  plains  of  Hethlehem; 
In  palaces  and  works  of  art. 

And  scenes  of  revelry  approved 
Ky  royalty,  they  bore  no  part  — 

Nor  en vyi HITS  their  >pirits  moved. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  OF  JUDEA.  87 

And  if  perchance  they  ever  heard 

Of  pompous  king  or  glittering  court, 
Or  felt  the  passing  interest  stirred 

By  pageantry  of  armed  cohort  — 
Contented,  peaceful  sons  of  Earth  !  — 

They  wondered,  when  the  crests  were  gone, 
How  life  the  living  could  be  worth 

So  diametric  to  their  own. 

Perchance  on  some  celestial  night 

Delicious,  clear,  though  wanting  stars, 
When  moonbeams  poured  their  mellow  light 

Though  olive-boughs  in  silver  bars, 
Recounted  one  in  sympathy 

How  briers  held  some  bleating  lamb 
Till  his  the  hand  that  set  it  free, 

Restored  it  to  its  frantic  dam. 

Or  of  a  hungry  lion  bold 

That  overleaped  the  rugged  wall 
And  seized  the  firstling  of  the  fold, 

The  choicest  jewel  'mong  them  all ; 
When  to  the  rescue  swiftly  came 

Those  ever-faithful  servitors 
Which,  though  a  pedigree  might  claim, 

Appeared  but  gaunt  and  savage  curs. 


88 


So,  in  exterior,  irere  they 

Scarce  comelier  limn  their  shepherd-dogs  — 
Yet  the\  revered  the  Sabbath-day 

And  wont  up  in  tin*  synagogues 
And  heard  the  law.  which  they  believed; 

And  gave  todod  their  oft'orings, 
From  whom  a  wisdom  they  received 

Surpassing  far  tlio  lore  of  kin* 

0  shepherds!  on  Judean  plains 

AVlio  sang  your  simple,  pastoral  songs 
And  kept  your  viirils,  earth  contains 

A  remnant  yet  to  whom  belongs 
Thai  heritage  of  faith  and  trust, 

As  naluiv  pure  and  free  from  art, 
The  child-like  feeling  that  we  must 

"  Love  God  with  all  our  mind  and  heart.  " 

For  echoes  si  ill  that  matchless  strain, 

The  symphony  by  seraphs  sung, 
And  thrills  the  world  with  its  refrain 

Wherever  joy  hath  found  a  tongue  ; 
From  mountain-top  and  sunny  vale, 

From  desert  waste  and  wooded  glen 
Unnumbered  thrones  the  tidings  hail 

Of  "  Peace  on   Karth,  Good-will  to  Men." 


THE  SMELL  OF  GRAPES.  89 

€f)e  Jwieil  of  oBrape^, 

Oh !  fine  as  musk,  invisible, 

Impalpable  —  as  odors  are  — 
Luxurious  and  wonderful 

As  essence  from  those  isles  afar 
Where  sweet  amomum,  cinnamon, 

And  all  delicious  spices  grow, 
Is  their  perfume,  for  dew  and  sun 

And  rain  combine  to  make  it  so. 

And  while  beneath  an  autumn  sky 

The  atmosphere*  is  redolent, 
Within  my  hammock  long  I  lie, 

And  breathe  the  grapes'  unrivaled  scent]; 
Then  close  my  eyes  and  dream  I  see, 

Beyond  Atlantic's  broad  expanse, 
The  vineyard  slopes  of  Italy, 

Or  vintages  of  happy  France. 

Judea's  hills  before  me  rise, 

That  "  milk-and-honey  "  land  renowned 
In  Bible  story,  where  the  spies 

The  famous  "  grapes  of  Eshcol"  found. 
Upon  the  air  of  Palestine 

What  must  have  been  the  burden  great 
Of  fragrance,  equaling  the  mean 

Of  their  recorded  size  and  weight ! 

8* 


90 


I  live  a  charming  period  o'er 

Of  reveling  in  sunny  Spain, 
And  view,  as  from  Gibraltar's  shore, 

Her  fields  of  waving  golden  grain; 
Her  castles,  villas,  fair  coquettes, 

Her  honest  bonr</>  "/>-.  peasantry, 
And  oh  !  the  sight  one  ne'er  forgets  — 

Her  wine-producing  husbandry. 

I>nt,  looking  from  my  casement  near, 

At  ten  o'clock,  down  in  the  shade, 
Instead  of  some  gay  cavalier 

To  charm  me  witli  a  serenade, 
What  are  those  figures,  one  by  one, 

With  stealthy  steps  and  ragged  shapes? 
Why,  by  "the  smell"  I  might  have  known- 

They  are  the  boys  who  steal  my  grapes  ! 


Was  ever  sneh  caloric  spilt 

Upon  the  desert  air  '.' 
Kre  flaccid  flesh  shall  further  wilt. 
Oh.  for  a  train,  by  Yaii<lerb(ii)ilt, 
To  lake  us  to  those  regions  win-re 
The  Ks,|iiiiii;iu\  and  polar  bear 
Arc  reveling  in  their  fro/en  lair! 


MIDSUMMER.  91 

The  greenest  leaves  are  curling  up, 

The  streams  are  running  dry, 
The  marigold  and  buttercup 
Are  drooping,  thirsting  for  a  sup 

Of  some  refreshing  balm,  while  I 

Am  trying  hard  to  smother  my 

Anathemas,  0  hot  July  ! 

The  pavements  are  like  burning  stones ; 

One  hesitates  to  pass, 
For  fear  that  flesh  and  blood  and  bones, 
The  real  wealth  a  person  owns, 

Will  be  transformed  into  a  mass 

Of  radiance,  like  molten  brass, 

Or  vapor  igneous  as  gas. 

My  neighbors  all  their  blinds  have  drawn, 

And  closed  the  portal  tight, 
And  hid  the  hammock  from  the  lawn  — 
They  hope  to  make  me  think  they  've  gone 

Down  to  the  sea  for  pure  delight ; 

But  I  just  know  —  I  have  no  spite  — 

They  're  in  the  back  yard  day  and  night. 

As  milk  will  sour,  so  turneth  fast 

My  temper  (never  sweet)  ; 
Uncertain  't  is  how  long  will  last 
Cette  metamorphose,  but,  when  past, 


92 


Tray,  what  ki  correct  ive  "  sliall  I  eat  ? 
F..r  those  experts  who  ••  can't   !><•  heat" 
Declare  that  sugar  gives  out  heat. 

They're  putt  ing  nn  —  how  kind  they  are! 

For  that  excursion,  drawing  nidi. 
A  big  "  refrigerator  car." 
To  take  us  down  to  Ocean  I  Jar. 

<  Mi,  packed  in  ice,  how  sweet  to  lie  ! 

If  envious  crowds  were  standing  by, 

'T  would  he  a  luxury  thus  to  die. 


of  tljc 

A  lovely  minister  was  he, 
Kndorsed  by  young  and  old, 

The  doctor's  pretty  daughter  she, 
And  worth  her  weight  in  gold. 

A  happy,  handsome  pair  were  they, 

Of  wide  and  good  renown, 
In  popular  diversions  gay, 

Who  fairly  led  the  town. 

•  M.I  />,//,."  said  he.  "maybe  you'll  think 

It  hiirhly  ha/ardou-. 
Hut  seems  to  nir  the  skating  rink 
Is  ju>t  tin-  thing  lor  us!" 


AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  RINK.  93 

No  need  of  further  argument; 

That  very  self-same  day 
Unto  the  roller-place  they  went, 

To  whirl  their  lives  away. 

"  Oh,  what  enchanting  exercise  ! 
It  seems  as  though  my  soul 
Would  float  away  to  yonder  skies. 
Defying  all  control." 

So  spake  the  rapturous  maiden,  when, 

Like  something  out  of  gear, 
Two  soles  began  to  float  just  then 

In  upper  atmosphere. 

Did  stumbling  mortal  ever  yet 

Collapse,  and  crack  his  crown, 
Who  did  not  drag  as  in  a  net 

Some  fellow-creature  down  ? 

And  so  the  novice  who  would  cut 

A  figure,  when  she  can't, 
Not  only  "  brings  the  house  down,"  but 

Her  own  adored  gallant. 

Of  course,  without  a  thought  of  harm, 

And  quite  in  modern  taste, 
His  all-protecting  dexter  arm 

Was  coiled  around  her  waist. 


94 


So  with  a  change  of  base,  his  toes 

(  Ibli-vd  to  follow  suit, 
Somehow  brought  round  a  broken  nose,, 

And  ;i  twisted  leg  —  to  boot. 

About  that  time  the  world  was  made 

Of  crooked  lightning-bars, 
And  iu  the  intervals  displayed 

Were  twenty  million  stars. 

A  hapless,  helpless  pile  they  lay, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one 

In  vowing  ne'er  airain  to  pay 
So  dearly,  just  for  fun. 


Peaches,  peaches!  everywhere 
See  the  tempting  baskets  stancH 

Luscious  fruit  from  Delaware, 
Ruddy  cheeks  from  Maryland. 

Orchards  of  the  sunny  South, 
lu  surprising  plentitude, 

Furnisli  freely  every  mouth 
Appeti/inir,  dainty  food. 


PEACHES.  95 

Peaches  m  the  market  stalls, 

Peaches  vended  on  the  street 
By  the  rogue  who  seldom  hauls 

Peaches  good  enough  to  eat. 

Dealers  a  bonanza  reap 

Prom  the  blushing  favorites, 
While  their  cry  of  "  Peaches  cheap !  " 

Gathers  in  the  silver  bits. 

What  delicious  nectar  pure 

Velvet  cuticles  enclose ! 
Pampered  taste  of  epicure 

No  more  toothsome  flavor  knows. 

There  are  peaches  tough  as  vice  — 

Acrid  as  a  sharp  retort ! 
Dear  were  they  at  half  their  price  — 

And,  besides,  of  measure  short. 

Who  is  wise  would  rather  tramp 
Weary  miles  than  eat  of  these; 

Colic,  cholera,  and  cramp 
Lurk  beneath  their  indices. 

What  are  peaches  minus  cream, 

Just  enough  to  smother  in  ? 
Till  the  Juicy  quarters  seem 

Buried  isles  of  coralline. 


POEMS 

freestones,  mellow  clings, 

Nectarines  without  a  sear — 
Every  one  a  pieture  brii. 
Of  redundant  groves  alar, 

Where  the  languid  natives  lie 
Under  peach-trees  day  by  day, 

Visage  looking  to  the  sky  — 

Picking  peaches  ?  —  No!  not  they! 

Waiting  for  the  fruit  to  drop 

In  each  facial  orifice ! 
Surely,  plan  for  gathering  crop 

Never  labor  saved  as  this. 

Peaches,  peaches !  everywhere 

Trains  are  carrying  thick  and  fast ! 

Luxuries  that  all  may  share 

Ere  "  peach-season  "  shall  have  passed. 


2Dcar  Htcii0iou£  paper. 

It  always  comes  when  I  am  blue, 

And  oh  !   the  eomfnrt    in  it! 
1  just  perspire  t<>  read  it  through 

Jn  less  than   half  a  minute. 


MY' DEAR  RELIGIOUS  PAPER.  97 

A  lovely  sermon  I  commence 

About  the  "  loaves  and  fishes  "  — 

Then  drift  into  advertisements 
Of  "  Amberina  "  dishes. 

I  read  and  re-peruse  with  care 

And  heartily  endorse  it, 
An  item  telling  how  to  wear 

"  A  skirt-supporting  corset." 

I  meditate,  "  How  true  it  is, 

I  am  my  brother's  keeper !  " 
And  lo  !  behold  where  groceries 

Are  sold  a  trifle  cheaper. 

It  bids  my  drooping  spirits  rise 

And,  as  to  speak  it  louder, 
In  capitals  before  my  eyes 

Puts  "  Royal  Baking  Powder." 

There's  one  to  whom  I  always  go 
When  weary  and  down-hearted  — 

Dear  "  Lydia  Pinkham !  "  — just  as  though 
She  never  had  departed. 

In  simple  trust  when  I  would  cling 

Unto  the  "  Rock  of  Ages," 
I  read  that  "Glue's"  the  proper  thing  — 

And  "  Vegetine  "  the  rage  is. 

9 


POEMS, 

And  when  for  Mivn-th  I  humbly  pray 

Some  impish  scion  titters  : 
"  Why,  don't  von  know,  flic  papers   Bay 

To  try  '  Red  Jacket  Bitters.'  " 

I  shudder  at    the  thought  of  sin, 

Its  fearful  avalanches ; 
And  then  get  interested  in 

"  Cow-boys  and  Cattle-ranches." 

I  wish  my  life  were  more  like  Paul's  — 

Devoted,  nobler,  truer  — 
Then  somehow  get  submerged  in  "  Hall's 

Sicilian  Hair  Renewer." 

My  aching  heart  suffused  with  grief 

Pulsates  a  little  faster 
To  know  that  there  is  sweet  relief 

Beneath  a  "  Porous  Plaster." 

I  read  it  through  in  every  part, 

So  serious  and  solemn, 
And  then  cut  out  and  learn  by  heart 

That  "  awful  funny  "  column. 

The  times  are  hard  —  I  cannot  spare 
A  dime  —  much  less  a  dollar  — 

But  I  must  re-subscribe,  and  wear 
A  shirt  without  a  collar. 


A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION.  99 

I'll  vegetate  on  sauer  kraut  — . 

Exist  on  airy  vapor  — * 
But  never,  never  do  without 

"My  dear  religious  paper." 


3U  Difference  of 

Before  the  pile  of  blazing  logs 

A  burgher  in  his  kitchen  sat, 
His  feet  upon  the  fire-dogs, 

His  form  encased  in  flaccid  fat ; 
And  sipped  his  toddy  from  the  mug 

Whose  foaming  element  was  drawn 
From  that  familiar,  earthen  jug 

That  topers  live  and  thrive  upon. 

A  typic  product  of  the  land 

Whose  scions  hold  forever  dear 
The  native,  true,  Teutonic  brand 

Of  sparkling  ale  and  lager  beer  ; 
A  jolly  soul,  like  "  Old  King  Cole," 

Of  visage  rubicund  was  he, 
Who  loved  his  meerschaum  and  his  bowl 

And  boon  companions'  revelry. 


100  P0AM/N. 

Tin-  patient  spouse  who  meekly  sham! 

His  home  and  toll,  but  not  his  glee, 
The  matutinal  meal  prepared 

With  quirt,  (plaint  dexterity; 
Pint,  while  the  smoking  viands  rolled 

Their  odor  out,  a  smothered  sigh 
From  her  lymphatic  partner  told 

That  Death,  unbidden  guest,  was  nigh. 


So,  quickly  sped  the  mystery ; 

While  proximate  inhabitants, 
Who  preconceived  how  it  would  be, 

Met  each  to  each  with  knowing  glance ; 
And  filled  again  the  master's  cup 

And  sympathy  and  sorrow  told ; 
And,  while  they  drank  its  contents  up, 

His  relict  tenderly  consoled. 

The  coroner  and  all  his  clique 

Sat  on  the  body,  just  as  if 
They  meant  to  make  the  dead  man  speak 

And  tell  how  he  became  so  stiff ; 
As  happens  oft  when  one  is  drowned 

The  jurymen  clear  up  the  doubt 
itiiiLr  on  the  body  found  — 

As  if  to  squeeze  the  water  out. 


"  THE  CUP  THAT  CHEERS."  101 

And  thus  they  gave  the  cause  of  death  ; 

The  savants  as  with  one  accord 
Agreed  "  't  was  either  want  of  breath, 

Or  visitation  from  the  Lord  ! " 
The  neighbors  whispered  "  Too  much;,beerj!  " 

But  we,  more  liberal  inclined. 
Suggest  with  honesty  sincere, 

"  It  might  have  been  all  three  combined  ?" 


Dear  "  Lib, "  I  shall  not  soon  forget 
The  pleasure  of  that  day, 

And  owe  you  one  delicious  debt 
I  never  hope  to  pay. 

To  "  resurrect "  my  coffee-pot 
Became  my  chief  employ, 

And  never  yet  was  labor  fraught 
With  more  abundant  joy. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  cruel  age 
Since  I  had  heard  it  boil 

With  aromatic  beverage 
That  compensated  toil. 

9* 


POEMS. 

I  followed  your  directions  through. 

Unto  the  "bitter  end "- 
I  mean,  of  course,  the  end  in  view  — 

But  you  will  comprehend. 

Witli  cream  as  thick  as  "Patent  glue," 
I  mixed  it,  —  half  and  half, — 

And  thought  of  rare  "  ambrosial  dew  " 
Divinities  might  quaff. 

The  miseries  of  other  years, 

As  if  in  an  eclipse, 
Were  hidden  in  "the  cup  that  cheers " 

Whene'er  it  touched  my  lips. 

I  drank  your  dear,  delightful  health 
In  steaming  fragrance  sweet ; 

And  had  I  any  surplus  wealth, 
I'd  lay  it  at  your  feet. 

If  my  ship  ever  reaches  shore, 
You  shall  be  rightful  heir, — 

When  I  have  told  my  ducats  o'er,  — 
To  all  1  have  to  spare. 

Don't  let  my  generous  projects,  though, 

More  brilliant  prospects  mar  ; 
I  merely  thought  you'd  like  to  know 
What  my  intentions  are. 


"  THE  CUP  THAT  CHEERS."  103 

A  sad  reflection,  is  it  not, 

That  one  can  scarce  restrain, 
That  pleasure,  how  or  where  't  is  sought. 

Is  so  allied  to  pain  ? 

And  so,  while  memory  holds  the  cup 

From  whence  delight  I  drew, 
That  hideous  night  that  "  used  me  up,  " 

Will  be  remembered,  too. 

Oh  !  ghosts  of  unforgiven  crimes ! 

That  dissipating  draught, 
Ere  morning  dawned,  a  thousand  times, 

I  wished  I'd  never  quaffed. 

I  watched  the  clock,  and  every  stroke 

I  counted,  until  two  — 
And  faintly  hoped,  till  daylight  broke, 

I'd  somehow  "  worry  through." 

Nobody  knows  when  it  begun, 

But  sleep  I  must  have  got, 
Because  I  dreamed  the  world  was  one 

Tremendous  coffee-pot. 

I  thought  the  mighty  ocean  wide, 

Was  one  enormous  cup 
Of  fragrant  nectar  —  and  I  cried 

Because  I'd  drunk  it  up. 


104 


I've  learned,  by  dear  experience, 
My  duly  now  —  and  here's 

My  latest  vow  —  forever  hence, 
To  shun  "the  cup  that  cheers." 

Per  favor  of  my  haunting  muse, 
This  "  wail  of  woe"  I've  penned, 

And  trust  your  goodness  to  excuse 
The  freedom  of  —  A  FRIEND. 


pclptng  tljc 

A  comely  Hoosier  maid  was  she, 
Bewitching,  fair,  and  adipose  ; 

In  anecdote  and  repartee 

Amusing,  witty,  and  verbose. 

A  package  came  to  her  address — 
We  opened  it  by  candlelight — 

Whose  contents  we  but  dared  to  guess, 
While  she  declared  "  't  was  dynamite.' 

But,  no;  in  smilinir  rows  there  lay 
The  masterpiece  of  dental  skill, 

As  we  supposed,  in  every  way 
Designed  according  to  her  will. 


HELPING  THE  POOR.  105 

Deceitful  teeth  were  hid  before 

Behind  her  honest  crimson  lips. 
Like  seeds  within  a  melon  core. 

And  brown  as  Saratoga  chips. 

But  this,  the  whitest  ivory  set, 

The  kind  that  grows  upon  the  trees  — 

Oh  !  not  the  set,  we  quite  forget  — 

The  bone,  the  stuff,  or,  what  you  please. 

But,  ah  !  the  skilled  artificer 

Had  lost  his  pattern  or  his  tools ; 

For,  as  it  proved,  they  never  were 
Cut  out  by  wisdom's  simple  rules. 

'  The  bungling  craftsman  is  insane," 

Said  she,  "  or  else  southwest  by  south ; 
And  when  I  seek  his  den  again, 

I'll  make  him  look  down  in  the  mouth ! " 

She  tried  them  on  —  that  is  to  say, 
She  tried  them  in  ;  they  would  n't  fit, 

When,  never  daunted,  ever  gay, 
Her  mind  conceived  this  happy  hit. 

'T  was  in  that  time  when,  o'er  the  land, 
Long-legged  insects  had  devoured 

All  verdure  green  on  every  hand  — 

Yea,  everything  that  leaved  or  flowered. 


106  POEMS. 

The  dearth  of  crops  that  far  and  wide 
Impoverished  many  a  household  place,. 

Discouraged  farmers  sorely  tried, 
And  famine  stared  them  in  the  face. 

When  from  a  nation's  affluence  ran 
Abundant  streams  of  kindliness. 

Relieving  many  a  hapless  man, 
And  saving  families  from  distress. 

So,  to  our  friend  this  thought  arose, 
Amid  our  laughter,  unrepressed : 
"  I  b'lieve  I'll  send  my  teeth  to  those 
Grasshopper  sufferers  out  West !  '* 


Crescent 

0  Crescent  Beach  !    That  day  shall  be 
A  treasured  one  in  memory, 
That  lured  me  from  my  distant  home,. 
Upon  thy  lovely  shores  to  roam ; 

To  li nircr,  with  enraptured  glance 
O'er  ocean's  limitless  expanse, 
Half-wishing  that,  before  my  eyes, 
Fair  Aphrodite  might  arise, 


CRES  GENT  BE  A  GH.  1Q7 

Or,  from  their  hidden,  watery  cells 
In  myriad  rainbow-colored  shells, 
Nereides,  with  dripping  locks, 
Might  grace  the  rough,  Neptunian  rocks, 

Defying,  in  their  revelry, 
That  ancient  monarch  of  the  sea, 
Whose  trident  marks  his  lordly  reign 
O'er  every  creature  of  the  main. 

I  watched  the  countless-dimpled  smile 
Illuminate  thy  waters,  while 
The  wish,  unconscious,  half-expressed, 
'That  I  might  find  therein  sweet  rest. 

I'd  just  as  soon,  beneath  the  wave 
Return  my  life  to  Him  who  gave, 
Or  let  my  bones  forever  bleach 
Upon  the  sands  of  Crescent  Beach. 

Throughout  the  years,  each  breaking  wave 
Should  be  a  tear-drop  o'er  my  grave, 
And  every  scintillating  gem 
Unite  to  sing  my  requiem. 

Of  Him  who  taught  beside  the  sea 
Of  ever-blessed  Galilee, 
His  true  disciples  meet  to  teach 
Beside  the  waves  at  Crescent  Beach. 


108  POEM8. 


-  voices  on  the  slioiv 
Commingle  with  the  ocean's  roar, 
And  wonderful  sweet  harmonies 
Are  caught  by  every  passing  breeze. 

The  fragrant,  flower-besprinkled  sod 
Re-echoes  prayer  and  praise  to  God  ; 
And  Crescent  Beach,  in  beauty  crowned, 
Becomes  enchanted,  hallowed  ground. 

They  who  the  Saviour's  name  revere 
Shall  here  unite  from  year  to  year, 
Till  o'er  our  land  the  fame  shall  reach 
Of  Christians  met  at  Crescent  Beach. 


M264589 

9  £3 


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